


why's it only you I'm thinking of

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, On the Road Again Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: “You’re insane,” he finally says, because he is. Louis is insane. Everything he’s saying is insane. “You don’t see me over here asking you, you know, stupid things about you and Liam, now am I?”“No, I suppose not.” Louis props his chin on his fist and stares off into the distance. “I mean, it’s probably because Liam and I write together all the time.”“Ok, and just because you’ve done it longer means Harry and I writing together is somehow different?” Niall narrows his eyes as much as he can. Maybe if he squints hard enough Louis will just entirely disappear from his sight.“No,” Louis says slowly. His mouth is curving in a sly grin. “Liam and I writing together is different not because of how long we’ve done it, but more because of how I’m not in love with Liam. Secretly, of course.”-OR-It's OTRA tour and Harry and Niall have a lot of feelings.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Harry Styles
Comments: 19
Kudos: 71





	why's it only you I'm thinking of

**Author's Note:**

> LOLOL. SO. Apparently being stuck in the house this long has gotten me re-obsessed with One Direction, so here's 29k of 2015 Narry OTRA tourfic? In the year 2021?
> 
> Oops?
> 
> SO many thanks to Liz for reading along with this FAR too many times to count. You are the BEST! I tried to research as much as I could about the tour schedule and such for the OTRA tour, but please forgive any mistakes. There are just so many times you can google "Harry Styles hair length OTRA tour" without feeling like a crazy person.
> 
> This is all thanks to an interview Liam did fairly recently which I'll include in the beginning of the fic. Also TY to everyone on Twitter for being so encouraging (and not just flat out blocking me.) (Unless you have.) (In which case, fair.)
> 
> None of this is true, any remaining mistakes are my own, blah blah blah.

*

“Liam Payne talking about the weird pre stage ritual he and the boys had before a One Direction concert 1/13 via the PlayOn podcast:

I remember in One Direction we used to have pre stage rituals and I think ours was the most stupid thing where we used to make Harry say, the words were “Let’s do this shit” which is the swear word we obviously can’t say, and then we’d be like “can you say it in the style of my friend’s goldfish” and then he’d have to try and do an impression of my friend’s goldfish. It was like, it would kinda calm the nerves before we went on stage. It could be anything. It could be anything like “say it in the style of JayDee Dryer” and then he’d have to try and say it like you would say it. And that’s how it would be every week.””

*

Louis is the one who starts it all, Niall remembers, and he only does it because Harry’s literally green with nerves.

“Come on, Hazza,” Louis says, overly bright and chipper. “Lead us in.”

Harry looks up from under his fringe and bites his lip. “I don’t know, Lou…”

“ _Let’s do this shit!_ ” Louis cheers. 

Harry stays silent. Louis has been trying to get Harry to lead them in with a cheer for the past ten minutes, but Harry’s too nervous to do it. Zayn pats Harry’s hair, and Liam smiles encouragingly all the way up to his eyebrows, but there’s still nothing. 

It’s a lot, is all. Their first solo show, the first one that’s all their own. Niall’s bricking it too, to be honest. They’re in Watford, and this time the people out there in the crowd are there to see just them. This is the first show that’s _theirs_ , not them competing on the telly or warming the crowd up for someone else.

“Shit’s a bad word,” Harry says for the tenth time in as many minutes, and Louis _tsks_ low in the back of his throat. 

“Ah, Harold,” Louis says. He slings an arm around Harry’s shoulders and drags him in close. Niall can see the tops of Harry’s cheeks flush. “Shit’s not a bad word, eh? No, no, no. I mean, it’s not like I said let’s do this _fucking_ shit yeah? Or like, let’s do this shit, you _cocksuckers_.”

Harry stares at Louis, open-mouthed and horrified. Niall worries that maybe that was the last straw. Maybe Louis has spooked Harry so badly that he’s going to run off to the loo and hide in the toilets like he did that one week on X Factor. 

Instead though, Louis tossing around every foul word known to man seems to loosen something in Harry. He pauses one more second and then bursts out laughing, and once Harry starts they all follow suit: Zayn is jumping around and Liam cups his hands to his mouth and starts hollering. Niall is quiet for a second, before everything that’s inside him feels like it starts to sizzle, like every cell in his body is electric. 

The smile he can feel on his face is so wide his cheeks actually hurt.

They’re really _doing_ this. This is _happening_. 

“All right, Harry!” Louis shouts. “You’re good now, yeah? Then say it!”

Harry grins and yells, “Let’s do this shit!” 

“Can you say it louder?” 

“LET’S DO THIS SHIT!” Harry shouts. 

“Can you say it loud and sing it like a song?” Louis asks.

And without missing a beat Harry leans back, plants a hand on his hip and sings out, “Leeeetttt’s dooooo this shiiiiitttttttt.”

They all burst into laughter, and just like that everyone’s nerves are gone. Louis looks proud, his eyes twinkling and Niall thinks, _this is it, and it’s going to be good_.

“All right, lads, enough of that,” Liam announces. “All hands in the middle.” Niall sticks his out first, and the warmth of four other hands on top of his grounds him. 

That was definitely it, Niall remembers now. That’s how it started. 

*

_UK Leg - OTRA Tour_

Niall takes a final look around his bedroom and tries to think if there’s anything important he’s forgotten to pack. This is the fourth time he’s had to pack for the start of a major tour, but no matter how many times he’s done it he’s always convinced he’ll get to the hotel the night before the first show and realize he’s got all tops and socks but no pants. Or that he’s somehow managed to only bring one pair of trainers for the next three months.

He’s still thinking about it when his mobile buzzes from the bedside table. He grins when he sees who it's from and clicks into Harry’s text message.

 _am I forgetting anything?_ it says and Niall laughs out loud. He rings Harry instead of texting back.

“Sorry, H, can’t help you. I was just trying to figure that out myself.”

Harry moans from the other side of the line. “Niall,” he whines. “How can we still be so shit at this.”

Niall shrugs and rubs a hand over his mouth. “You’ve got me.”

Harry’s quiet after that, but Niall can hear clothes shifting around and the occasional bang of Harry bumping into his furniture. Niall knows Harry’s neat - almost psychotically so - and instead of pulling things out of his cupboards and tossing them to the side when he’s decided against them like Niall’s doing, he’s probably sifting through all of this tops and pants methodically, figuring out what to bring and what to leave. 

Niall takes a look at the mess he’s most likely leaving in his bedroom and cannot relate.

“Did you pack pants?” Niall asks. He checks his own bag and yep, he’s got those. 

“Yeah,” Harry says distractedly. “Pants, socks, boots, trainers. Some tops and jeans. Uhm…”

“Inhaler?” Niall offers and Harry makes a loud _a-ha!_ and Niall hears his footsteps echoing into another room. 

“Thanks,” Harry murmurs quietly. “What about stuff for your knee? Extra wraps and all.” 

Niall knows he packed them, but he shifts the things around in his bag until he spots them under a bunch of jumpers. “Got em.”

Harry makes a quiet sound in his throat in acknowledgement. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

Niall rolls his eyes. His flight is so early he’s not even sure if he’s going to sleep tonight or not. The idea of pulling an all nighter and then taking a drink and passing out when the plane takes off is starting to hold more and more appeal. 

“Six am,” he answers.

Harry groans. “Same.”

“I thought you were flying out later with the others?” Niall could have sworn he was the only one who fucked around too much with his schedule, leading to him only being able to get a seat at the ass crack of dawn.

“Took too long to remember I needed a flight,” Harry says sheepishly. 

A laugh bubbles out of Niall’s chest and he claps a hand over his mouth. His packing is fine, he finally determines. He thinks he’s got everything and whatever he’s missing he’ll just replace when he gets to Australia. 

He snaps the lid closed on his suitcase and grabs the duffle by his feet and puts it next to the bag on his bed. It’s weird thinking he won’t be back in this room after tomorrow for at least a few weeks, maybe more. Weird but exciting. It’s the same feeling he gets before the start of any tour, and Niall never wants to take it for granted. He hopes he always feels this way.

“How are we both still such crap at this?” Niall says, and he can hear Harry laugh. “Touring for nearly five years and still can’t remember to book a fecking flight.” 

“You’ve got me, mate.”

Niall laughs again and flicks off the bedroom light. “You should come to mine then,” he tells Harry. “I’m going to eat all the food left in the house and drink all the beers I’ve got here until my car comes in a few hours.”

“You’re not going to sleep? Do you think that's a good idea?”

“Not even a little bit,” Niall says. He can hear Harry laugh and adds, “It’s actually a terrible idea but I’m going to do it anyway. You in?”

Niall hears the snap of a case from Harry’s side of the line and then footsteps echoing down a hall. 

“I’m leaving now,” Harry tells him, and Niall does a little fistpump. “See you soon.”

*

The weather in Australia is beautiful. Niall forgets when he’s been in London too long just how nice it is in other places in the world. The sun has been shining all day, and when Niall and Harry landed and were driven to the hotel they were able to check into their rooms and kip for a few hours before the rest of the lads even arrived. 

One of the benefits of having a flight at an un-goldy hour of the morning, at least. 

Now he’s sat outside on his balcony, tucked in the corner and sipping a bottle of water. He’s fairly sure the whole balcony is covered enough that no one from the ground would be able to spot him if they looked up, but he’s not about to take any chances. His mobile buzzes from his pocket and he pulls it out. When he opens it he’s staring at a selfie Louis must have just snapped of himself and Liam in the hotel lobby.

 _room number_ it says under the picture. Niall chuckles and types it in, then heads back to make sure his bags are stashed in the closet before Louis gets there and decides to start poking through all of Niall’s stuff just to be a twat.

There’s a knock at the door and Niall opens it expecting to see Louis and Liam but finding Harry there instead. 

“Niall,” Harry says. His eyes are wide, all the hair pulled back from his face and tied up into a bun on the top of his head. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of Liam’s old black basketball shorts and a towel around his neck.

“You’re a genius. That was the single best sleep I’ve had in my life I think,” Harry tells him. Niall laughs just as the elevator dings down the hall and the doors swish open, filling the air with Louis’ high pitched laughter. 

“Nialler!” Liam yells. He jogs down the hall and launches himself at Niall for a hug. The bag he’s holding thuds to the floor and Niall can feel Louis kicking it past his feet and into his room. 

Liam pats him on the head then pulls back; his smile so wide his eyes are closed into slits. He smells like airplane and sweat and could use a breath mint or two. 

Niall has missed him so much it’s stupid. 

“Liam! I missed you!” Niall tries to say more but his arm is being pulled behind him at a really awkward angle and he’s got to let go so he can have Louis on top of him instead. 

“Enough about Liam,” Louis quips. He hugs Niall tightly and tucks his face into the crook of Niall’s neck. “I’m here now. The rest of you can all fuck off.”

“Hey!” Harry says sharply. Naill pushes the door closed as they all pile inside, and looks across the room to find Liam hanging off Harry like a koala. “Niall and I were travel pals today. Where were you two tossers.”

“Getting our beauty sleep, young Harold.” Louis pulls back and smacks Niall on the cheek. “Try and keep up.”

“I am keeping up,” Harry says around a pout. Liam pats his head and Harry preens up into him. “I’m just saying that I’ve been with Niall all day, and that Niall is a super genius and we got here early, and drunk, and took _naps_.”

“Naps, eh?” Louis grins sharply and reaches out to try and twist Niall’s nipple. Thankfully Niall hasn’t just met Louis yesterday so he manages to jump back quick enough to avoid him. 

“Speaking of naps and sleeping, when’s Zayn’s flight getting in?” Liam asks. Niall genuinely has no idea. He hasn’t spoken to Zayn all that much the past few weeks. Not for lack of trying on his part - he’s texted Zayn a bunch of times - but when he didn’t answer Niall just figured he was off with Perrie doing couple-y things and left him alone.

“No idea,” Niall says. 

“Yeah, I haven’t spoken to him much either,” Harry adds. 

Louis rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “He should be here in a little bit, I think.” When the rest of them stare at him he sheepishly adds, “I had Ollie do some digging.”

Which is odd, Niall thinks. The fact that Louis had to dig to find out. Usually they all know each other’s schedules pretty well. He’s sure it’s nothing, but the way Liam and Harry are looking as uneasy as he feels he thinks maybe he should try and talk with Zayn one on one when they get some time tomorrow. He and Niall have always been close. It’s probably some drama with Perrie or the wedding plans or something like that. 

Not that he has much time to think about it now, because in a split second Louis pushes past him and then jumps and right onto Niall’s bed, getting his hands and his dirty trainers all lodged into the sheets and the duvet. 

“Hey! Fuck off! I gotta be sleeping there, ya dick!”

“Remember the first time we came to Australia?” Louis asks, ignoring Niall and his complaining. He kicks his trainers off and onto the floor, then rubs his stinky feet into the covers instead. Niall hates him with every fiber of his being. 

“I do,” Liam says. He sits down on the edge of the bed and pats the space next to him. Niall is about to go over when Harry jumps in front of him and takes the spot instead. 

All of them. Every single one of them is dead to Niall right now.

“Our Harry here spent about three days being sick in the toilets,” Liam says, voice breaking on a laugh. Harry lurches up from where he’s been cuddling into Liam’s side to try and shove him off the bed. Sadly Liam spends about nineteen hours a day in the gym and Harry doesn’t move him much. “What was it you had him say before the show that first night, Lou?”

“Wasn’t me it was Zayn,” Louis corrects. He rolls over so he’s on his back and shoots out a hand to grab Niall’s arm and yank him onto the bed. Niall goes with a flop and everyone bounces for a second, but when they settle they’re all just comfortably in each other’s space.

“Harry said his _let’s do this shit_ and then I think Zayn was like, _can you say it like an aussie who’s ordering a pint at the same time_ or summat,” Louis remembers.

Niall can hear Harry snicker. “So I said: _Let’s do this shit, and get me a can of Fosters!_ ” Harry’s voice is lower now than it was back then but he can still mimic his former self, and Niall laughs along with the rest of them.

“We’ll have to let Zayn call it tonight,” Liam decides. “Like old times, yeah?”

Niall can’t wait. 

*

Zayn is already at the stadium by the time the rest of them get there that night, and when he tells Harry to “say it like a bloke who’s been tortured with wedding plans for weeks,” they all laugh and pull Zayn into a hug. 

The show that night is electric, it’s like fire almost. Niall forgets sometimes, with the stress of writing and recording and promo and rehearsals, just how rewarding it is to finally - _finally_ \- get back in front of a live crowd. He plays his guitar with Dan, and dances with Liam and sings with Harry, and it will never ever be anything less than incredible. 

After Sydney comes Brisbane, then Melbourne, then Adelaide. The first few shows are always the most insane, and then things seem to settle down. Louis gets slightly less manic and spends a ton of his downtime on the phone with Eleanor. Liam goes to the gym in whatever hotel they’re in at all hours of the day and night. Harry holes up in his room a lot, writing in his journal, or he sits by the pool, or he comes to Niall’s room to flop around on Niall’s bed instead of his own for a bit. 

And Zayn…Well, Niall’s not really sure what Zayn’s been up to this time. 

Which isn’t completely odd. Zayn has always been the quietest out of all of them. It’s just, this time… Niall isn’t sure. This time seems different. And he’s not the only one to think it. 

It’s a Tuesday and they have the full day off. No show at night, no promo during the day. Niall’s not sure how it happened – honestly it was probably an accident; no one would actually give them all off on _purpose_ \- but he’s just going with it. He turned down Liam’s offer to go surfing with him and Louis, and spent a little bit texting with Bressie and Eoghan and Laura about the tour. He tried to get in touch with Zayn a bunch of times, but when he realized Zayn wasn’t answering him he gave up. 

He’s just about to look at the room service menu and order a burger as big as his face when there’s a soft knock at his door. He figures it’s Zayn, and relief floods through his body. That’s more like Zayn anyway. He’s not much at texting to be honest; Niall should have realized he’d see Niall’s messages and just come over when he was ready to talk. 

But when Niall opens the door it’s not Zayn that’s stood there, it’s Harry. 

“Hazza, hey, you all right?” Niall asks. “Cause you look like crap.” 

Harry’s in a long pair of flannel pants and an oversized Brittany t-shirt he probably nicked from Grimshaw the last time he saw him. The shirt is pulled out of shape and stained and looks to have at least two different food items crusted into the hem. Harry’s skin is blotchy and he’s got his hair pulled back into a grey knit beanie but even that doesn’t hide how greasy it is. 

Also, he’s glaring. 

“Gee, thanks, Niall.” Harry narrows his eyes and shoves past him into Niall’s room. “S’good to see you too.” 

Niall sighs. He shuts the door and by the time he’s turned around Harry has already flopped face down on Niall’s bed, arms and legs sticking out like a starfish. Niall sits next to him and Harry snuffles a little and scoots to the side so there’s more room. Niall pats Harry’s head and Harry flips his hand over and wiggles his fingers. 

“Niall.” Harry mumbles into the covers and flails his arm out, grasping wildly trying to catch Niall’s hand. When he does he curls his fingers into Niall’s and squeezes. “Niall. Niall. Nialler. Nail file.”

Naill laughs and squeezes Harry’s hand back. “Harry. Harry. Hazza. H.”

Harry laughs quietly, but it’s a real one so Niall feels at least a little bit accomplished. He’s not quite sure what’s wrong with Harry, but he does know nearly every inflection of every one of his laughs, and he’s glad he got the one he recognizes. Not the one Harry saves for reporters, or their handlers, or even one of the lads when Harry’s being peckish and not wanting to deal with them and all of their questions. He and Harry have their own thing - they always have - and he’s glad for it now when he can tell there’s something genuinely wrong. 

Niall lets him have time. Harry does better when no one is forcing him to talk. He lays back and angles his body so their hands are still clasped and the tops of their heads are touching. 

It doesn’t take too long for Niall to feel the bed shift. He turns his head and finds Harry already watching him, green eyes clouded.

“I’m worried about Zayn.”

And, ah. There it is. Zayn.

“Worried? What are you worried for?” Niall asks, because he needs to buy himself a minute to see how he’s going to do this with Harry. 

The thing is, Niall’s been worried too - he’s been worried for weeks actually - but worrying _Harry_ is something else entirely. That’s not something that Niall wants to be responsible for. Yeah, Zayn’s obviously got something going on, and Niall is going to do what he can to figure out what it is. But Harry’s the most sensitive out of all of them. He works hard so that everyone forgets, but he’s always going to be the youngest, always going to be the one that loves the hardest and the fastest, always going to be the one who feels the most. 

Niall will do what he has to to figure out what’s going on with Zayn. But he’s going to do it on his own, he’s not going to let Harry get all caught up in it too. 

Harry searches Nialls face before shrugging. His fingers tighten around Niall’s and Niall lets him hold on. 

“He doesn’t seem like himself is all,” Harry says quietly.

“He’s got a lot of stuff going on, Hazza. You heard him.”

“Yeah but that’s not it. Not all of it at least.” 

Niall pauses. He thinks Harry is right, is the thing. Perrie and the wedding plans most likely aren’t the only things bothering Zayn right now. He also knows that agreeing with Harry right now, letting that idea solidify in Harry’s head is a terrible idea. 

He decides to play it off. It’s the best he can think of off the top of his head. 

“Oh, ok, so you mean that having a fiancee, planning a wedding, recording with the rest of us, doing promo, and starting up another _world tour_ , isn’t enough for you?” Niall asks. He’s pulled his hand back to tick off each point on his fingers, and when Harry goes to say something Niall points at him and cuts him off. 

“No, wait. Think about it, H. Think about Liam and Louis and how much more stressed they are than us all the time because of El and Sophia.” 

Harry’s eyebrows crinkle as he pulls a frustrated face. “Yeah, but Zayn--”

“Zayn is getting _married,_ H. Married! I mean, just think about it.” Niall stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankles. “Liam and Louis are just dating Sophia and El and the two of them are always…” he trails off and waves his hands around in the air to encompass the idea of _always, you know, stressed and crazy_. “So imagine if they were getting _married_ like Zayn and Pez.”

Harry’s silent for a moment, then his face scrunches up in thought. “Oh, uhm, I mean--”

“Harry, seriously,” Niall says, his voice sounding as dire as he can get it. He takes Harry’s hand again and makes sure to hold his gaze as he says, “Louis Tomlinson. Planning a wedding. A _wedding_. Just _think_ about it.”

Harry blinks and blows out a long breath. “Jesus.”

“Uh huh,” Niall nods encouragingly. “So yeah. You see what I’m saying?”

“I mean, I do,” Harry says. He doesn’t sound entirely convinced but his grip around Niall’s fingers loosens. Niall thinks that’s at least a step in the right direction. “Ugh, Niall, I know. I know you’re right. It’s just, do you really think Zayn--”

“I think Zayn is being Zayn,” Niall says, with as much finality in his voice as he can muster. “I think he’s quiet and not talking to us about it but that’s nothing new. I think he’s going to be fine.” Harry’s forehead is still a little scrunched up so Niall reaches out with his free hand and pokes his finger between Harry’s eyes. “Trust me. I’m older and wiser.”

There’s silence for a second, and then, “You’re literally six months older than me,” Harry says flatly. “It doesn’t even count.”

“It counts when I say it counts.” Niall yanks his hand out of Harry’s, but when Harry goes to complain about it Niall shushes him and reaches over to the side table to grab the hotel book with all the menus in it. “Now come on, you’re already in my room stinking it all up, we might as well order some food and find a movie or summat to watch on the telly.”

Harry’s eyes light up, and he finally scrambles around so he’s sitting up, cross legged on the bed. “Wait, really? You don’t have plans?”

“Not a one.” Niall shakes his head and flips through the adverts until he gets to the room service menu. “Liam and Louis tried to get me to go surfing with them earlier this morning, but nooo thanks.”

“Me too!” Harry’s grabbing for the menu so Niall lets him have it. He doesn’t even know why he was looking, he’s going to get a bacon cheeseburger no matter what. “You’d think by now they’d know I don’t want to do anything like _that_ on a day off. All...sporty like that.”

“Nah, cheeseburgers and chips all the way,” Niall says as he knocks the beanie off Harry’s head and messes up his mop of hair. 

He’s still not convinced himself about Zayn, but he thinks he convinced Harry and for today that’s going to have to be good enough. 

*

It’s a few days later and they’re in Perth, killing some time before sound check. Niall’s been fooling around on his guitar coming up with some riffs he might want to add into a song or two. Nothing crazy, just getting himself playing a little more. 

Harry’s with him like he’s been pretty much all the time lately. Niall’s been trying to show him how to play for years, and Harry was always vaguely interested but lately he’s been really committing himself to it, asking Niall to show him chords and progressions and a few basic songs. It’s nice, fun to have something for just him and Harry, easy in a way most things aren’t these days.

Harry finishes whatever it is he’s been playing (Niall would try to guess the song but he’s afraid he might guess wrong and then Harry’s face will do that sad little shriveled up thing it does when he’s disappointed) and Niall says, “Nice job, Haz!” just as Louis comes over and sits pretty much right on Niall’s lap. 

“Ack, Tommo, what the fuck!”

“Hello, Niall.” Louis drapes his arm around Niall’s shoulders and smacks at his cheek. “Let’s talk.”

He’s grinning at Niall manically and Niall has absolutely no idea what he’s on about. Whatever it is though, Niall’s sure it’s not good. He stares at Louis some more and Louis just stares back, his smile wicked. 

“Talk?” Niall says weakly. “Talk about what?”

Before he can answer Harry announces, “Yep, well, I’m going to head off.” 

Niall whips his head around and glares. “ _Harry_.” 

But it’s no use. Louis calls out, “You have a lovely day there, Curly! Love the guitar playing, see you at sound check!” just as Harry starts packing up his guitar and his bottle of water and the little plastic baggie of guitar picks Niall has given him. 

“Sound check!” Niall says, grasping at straws. “Right. Isn’t that soon?”

“Close to two hours off,” Louis tells him as Harry says, “Yep, ok, bye!” and scurries away.

Niall waits until Harry’s gone, then shoves Louis off his lap and into the space Harry left. “Oi, Tommo. Get your arse off me.”

Louis laughs, lightly punching Niall on the thigh. He gets quiet quickly after that though. Niall tracks his gaze and spots Harry a bit away after having gotten waylaid by Liam after he left them. He’s got his guitar case slung over his shoulder and Niall watches as Harry runs a hand through his hair, his fingers getting caught in a knot and tugging. 

Harry’s hair has gotten so long, falling in curly waves over his shoulders. The other day when he was in Niall’s room laying sideways across the bed Niall took a hunk of Harry’s hair and twisted it around his finger. It had been greasy that day, the strands all half sticking together, but today it looks clean and soft. Niall wonders if it smells like the coconut shampoo Lou uses on them, and then he shakes his head because why is he wondering what Harry’s hair smells like.

Zayn is nearby too, though not too close. He’s on the other side of the floor space, head tucked down and mobile pressed firmly to his ear. He looks up almost guiltily as Niall stares - as if he knows he’s being watched - and Niall lifts his hand in a short wave when Zayn catches his eye. 

He doesn’t wave back, though. He just looks off to the side and turns so his back is toward him and Louis.

“What the fuck is going on, Nialler,” Louis says quietly.

Niall shakes his head. “The hell if I know.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, before Louis’ mobile buzzes and he looks down to check it, pulling a face and glaring before shoving it back in his pocket. 

“All right?” Niall asks. 

“Yeah, it’s just--” Louis trails off. The fringe laying across his forehead lifts up then falls down quickly when he huffs out a breath. “Just some stuff with Eleanor. It’ll be alright,” he adds when Niall turns to look at him head on. “It’s nothing big, just...I dunno. El being El, I suppose.”

“Lou.” Niall doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want Zayn being weird and Louis being sad. He just wants everything back to the way it always had been. He wants everything normal again.

“It’s nothing,” Louis says, firm this time. “That’s not why I’m here. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” Niall figures he knows, because everyone’s got the same question lately. Louis looks at him, eyes deep and blue. He barely flicks his glance, but Niall knows for sure what Louis is asking without him saying a word. 

“You’ve got me, mate.” Niall glances toward Zayn again, still with his back to the rest of them, then angles so he’s tucked in closer to Louis. 

He wonders why they’re all acting like this. Like they’re all keeping their questions a secret. He wonders why this time seems so much different, why no one has called Zayn out on it yet. Why there’s been no band meeting, no big talk, no one asking flat out, _Zayn, what’s wrong?_

That’s the thing though: maybe none of them really want to know.

“Have you talked to him?” Louis asks and Niall shakes his head. 

“Not yet. I’ve tried to, he just…”

Louis exhales a long, slow breath. “Same here.”

It’s quiet where they are, even though all the usual sounds of the stadium are happening around them. Niall can hear speakers being dragged and chairs being shifted. Later on tonight this place will be filled with more than forty thousand people, but right now all Niall can hear is Louis talking to him. All he can think about is him, and the band, and the rest of the lads, and Zayn.

“What about Harry?” Louis asks suddenly. 

Niall blinks. “What?”

“Harry,” Louis repeats.

“Harry?”

Louis lifts his head and spins it around, looking at all corners of the stadium. “Is there an echo out here?”

“No, wait, I just--” Niall closes his eyes and huffs. What even is this conversation. “We were just talking about Zayn, why are we talking about Harry now?”

Louis sighs and tilts his head to the side. Then he squints. Then he sighs again and Niall is honestly going to choke him. 

“If you’ve got something to say, Tommo--”

“I just want to make sure that Harry’s doing ok,” Louis says. Niall can’t believe that that’s it and then Louis adds, “And you. That you’re doing all right. With Harry I mean.”

“Harry’s doing fine,” Niall declares. Louis blinks and tilts his head. “I mean, he was worried like the rest of us,” Niall adds, “but I talked to him about it. We hung out after that and it was-- Everything’s fine now. I took care of him.”

“Ohhhh.” Louis’ voice is a low drawl. “You _took care of him_.” He’s looking at Niall with a piercing gaze and just - that’s not what Niall meant. 

“Oi, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Niall says, and this is ridiculous. Louis is ridiculous. “I just meant that he came to see me and he seemed sad, so we talked and then he felt better.”

“Mmhmm.” Louis’ eyes are twinkling. “And then what.”

“And then nothing.” Niall grits his teeth. “That was like, weeks ago.”

“Weeks ago. Yeah, yeah. That’s right. And then you two rode the bus together--”

Niall stares at him. 

“Because the rest of you smoke. You know we don’t go on your disgusting smoking bus.”

“And you've been writing together.” Louis’ eyes are bright blue and twinkling. He’s wearing an old black hoodie with the sleeves cut off and a pair of grey joggers with more holes in them than cheese. 

Niall has no idea what he’s getting at. 

“Yeah? And?”

“Seems cozy, is all,” Louis adds, trying to sound casual. 

“You and Liam write together all the time,” Niall says because Louis isn’t making any sense. 

“Yeah but, you know, this is _you and Harry_.”

Niall waits a beat. “You’re insane,” he finally says, because he is. Louis is insane. Everything he’s saying is insane. “You don’t see me over here asking you, you know, stupid things about you and Liam, now am I?”

“No, I suppose not.” Louis props his chin on his fist and stares off into the distance. “I mean, it’s probably because Liam and I write together all the time.”

“Ok, and just because you’ve done it longer means Harry and I writing together is somehow different?” Niall narrows his eyes as much as he can. Maybe if he squints hard enough Louis will just entirely disappear from his sight. 

“No,” Louis says slowly. His mouth is curving in a sly grin. “Liam and I writing together is different not because of how long we’ve done it, but more because of how I’m not in love with Liam. Secretly, of course.”

Niall’s face and ears go so hot so quickly he wonders if he’s actually been set on fire. 

“You’re a cunt, Tommo.”

“I’m just saying!” Louis throws his hands in the air, lunging out of the way when Niall chucks his water bottle at him. “I’m not the one harboring a five year long crush, now am I.”

And Niall just - if he could lean over and put his hands directly over Louis’ mouth without looking like a lunatic right now he would. Maybe he could do it long enough that Louis would stop breathing. Even just for a little bit. 

“I don’t have a - a - a bloody _crush_ on Harry. Jesus,” Niall hisses. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Niall. Please.”

And - fine. Whatever. 

“Whatever!” Niall gives up. This whole conversation is nothing Niall ever planned on having with Louis, today or any other day. “I had a crush, like _five years ago_.” Louis is clapping his hands so psychitocally he looks like a demented seal. Niall looks around them but thankfully most everyone has left and no one else is there to witness this. 

“It doesn’t even count,” Niall argues. “We’ve all had a crush on Harry at one point or another.”

Louis’ laughter dies down a bit, and he slings his arm back around Niall’s shoulders. “That’s true, Nialler, that is true. The difference though, is that the rest of us got over him.”

Niall does reach over then and does cover Louis’ mouth with his hand. When Louis licks his palm Niall isn’t even cross, because at least he’s finally quiet. 

*

The Perth show was mad. Amazing. Possibly one of the best nights of Niall’s life if he’s being honest. It started off with Harry declaring, “Let’s do this shit!” and Liam asking Harry, “Can you say it like Loki when he’s chewing on a bone??” Harry paused for a split second, then said it again in a bizarre grunting, moaning, growling voice which was supposed to sound like Liam and Sophia’s dog. 

They all stared at him in something like horror when he was finished. Liam’s face was frozen in shock.

“Harry. That was…” Liam trailed off. He blinked slowly. “It was--”

“It was great, yeah?” Harry said happily. He cracked the gum he was chewing between his teeth and said, “Wait, I’ll do it again.”

“No!” all four of them yelled, and then they stopped and all looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter. 

The night just got more and more epic from there. 

The crowd was crazy for them, singing and screaming and dancing from the second the lights went out until they went back up a few hours later. Niall played along with Dan and Sandy like a pro. He danced with Liam and sang with Harry and went crazy causing trouble with Louis like always. Even Zayn was super into the night, hitting notes Niall had only ever imagined, making everyone around them wonder if Zayn was actually real, like how was it that a human could possibly sing like that in real life.

Zayn was so on that night, it made Niall think maybe he’s been imagining how off he’s been lately. He kept coming over to Niall in particular, his skinny arm damp and sweaty when he hooked it over Niall’s shoulders when he was singing. Niall kept playing his guitar, but he looked up and caught Zayn’s eye, his dark gaze twinkling under the stadium lights. 

It finally felt like things were back where they should be. The five of them, singing and playing to a crowd, giving everyone every single thing they had to give. By the end of the show Niall stood in the middle of the other four and thought, _finally_.

After Perth is Japan and they all fly in together. Niall sits with Liam on the flight for about an hour until Harry comes over and starts kicking at Liam’s feet to get him to move. Niall can feel Louis’ eyes on him from the back of the plane, which is ridiculous. Niall can hang out with Harry as much as he wants - as much as _Harry_ wants - and Louis making his dumb faces is just uncalled for. 

When Liam gets up and moves down the aisle to sit with Louis, Harry drapes himself half in the empty seat with his legs sprawled out across Niall’s lap. He’s playing something from his phone, and hands Niall one of the ear buds to stick in his ear and listen along. With his other ear Niall can hear Louis sniggering, so he reaches up with the hand that’s behind Harry’s head and flips Louis off. 

The rest of the flight kind of goes like that.

It’s a day later and the morning before the first show in Osaka. Niall is sitting on his bed with a guitar in his lap going over some chords when someone knocks at his door. He figures it’s either Harry to come hang out with him because he’s bored, or Louis who’s come to bother Niall about how Harry always goes to hang out with Niall when he’s bored. Niall is fine with the one option but dreading the idea of the other. He pulls the snapback he’s wearing down over the front of his eyes a little as he unlocks the door and pulls it open. 

What he’s definitely not expecting is for it to be Zayn standing there. 

Zayn’s in a pair of old grey joggers and a black zip up hoodie. His hair is loose and hanging out in bits from under the ratty old yellow beanie he’s got pulled on. He’s got an unlit cigarette stuck behind his ear and he’s fiddling with the phone in his hands when Niall pulls the door open further. 

“Hey, Z, all right?”

Niall’s voice drops to about half volume all on it’s own. It’s like he inherently knows not to be too loud or spook Zayn. He looks fidgety enough already. 

“Yeah. Hey Niall.” Zayn bites his lip but when he catches Niall’s eye he smiles a little, the one that makes his own eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s been so long since Niall has seen Zayn smile like that. He’s missed it so much. 

“You busy?” Zayn asks, “I can come back if you--”

“No, no.” Niall pulls the door open wide and steps back so Zayn can come inside. “Definitely come in.”

Zayn seems nervous and jumpy. Niall closes the door and kicks idly at a few hoodies and t-shirts he’s got strewn across the room. His bed is a mess, and there are two or three room service trays stacked on the floor in the corner. Zayn wanders around and picks things up before looking at them and then putting them back just slightly off from the spot they’d been in. Niall’s sheet music ends up on the desk chair and his wallet and the bunches of little papers and receipts he’d had in his pocket get pushed a little to the side. 

Niall doesn’t know why Zayn isn’t saying anything; why _he_ isn’t saying anything. It almost feels like it did when they all first met, when you weren’t sure what you could say to someone that would make them laugh and what would offend them. 

Niall had learned early off that whatever was said to Louis would make him laugh. Harry would laugh after a minute, whether he was using the time to process the joke to understand it or to figure out how he was going to respond, Niall still isn’t sure. Liam would take longer; lots of times Niall himself would lean over and whisper to Liam if the things Louis were saying we’re jokes or if they were serious and why Liam should be laughing at them. 

Zayn though, Niall always kind of _got_ Zayn. 

Zayn was quiet like Liam, but he was sharp. He always had an answer ready when he was asked a question, always a quip or a funny anecdote. Niall enjoyed Zayn’s sense of humor, and how big his heart was and how deeply he felt. He’s never felt unsure around Zayn - never like the way he does now. 

It makes him brave and scares him to death all at the same time. 

“Zayn, you all right?” Niall asks. It’s just one question, but Niall needs to know. Zayn’s answer means everything right now. 

Zayn laughs quietly. He fiddles with the cigarette stuck behind his ear again. “Am I all right...” he repeats in a whisper. 

He’s been looking everywhere but at Niall. At the things on top of the bureau. Out the balcony doors. Down at his feet. When he finally looks up and catches Niall’s gaze, Niall wants to scream because Zayn just looks lost. 

“Japan, yeah?” Zayn says instead. He shakes his head and in a split second his entire mood seems to change. His eyes are clear and his smile is fake. Niall hates it. 

“It’s mad, innit? ‘D’you remember the first time we came to Japan?” Zayn asks. 

Niall nods because he does; he tries to remember everything. 

“I do, yeah. Zayn, is everything--”

“I love you Niall, you know that right?”

Niall snaps his mouth so quickly his teeth hurt. Zayn’s watching him, his gaze steady. Niall nods, his head bobbing jerkily. 

“Of course,” Niall says. He clears his throat and spreads his fingers out from both hands to keep them from clenching into fists. “Zayn, of course I know that. Why are you-”

“Pez says I have to _express myself_ more.” Zayn’s got his fingers crooked into air quotes at that and Niall smiles. “And I mean, I figured you knew but like, you’re _Niall_ , yeah?” Zayn’s smiling now, his entire face squinting with it. “I needed to make sure.”

“It’s sure,” Niall says, then laughs at himself when he hears how it sounds. “I mean, you can be sure. I do know it, yeah. And you too, you know? I love you too, Zayn. Always.”

Zayn blinks, and his face slowly goes from grinning to a softer, sadder smile. He looks like he wants to say something else, and Niall’s heart is screaming for it. He needs to know what Zayn really came here for, what he really wants to say. 

“Is everything else all right?” Niall asks so softly he’s close to whispering. Maybe if Zayn doesn’t have to say it out loud he’ll tell Niall something else. He’ll tell Niall some of the secrets he knows Zayn’s keeping. “Zayn, you can tell me if-”

Before Niall can even finish, both of their mobiles start buzzing with the matching alarms they all have set for sound check. Zayn pulls his out of his pocket and silences it, then looks up with something like relief on his face. 

“Everything’s fine. I told you, just expressing myself or summat.” Zayn crosses the room and pats Niall on the cheek. 

_You’re lying._ Niall thinks. _Why are you lying to me?_

“Now come on,” Zayn says, already halfway to Niall’s door. “I’m going to go have a smoke. Tell the lads I’ll be down in a mo, yeah?”

Niall opens his mouth to try and stop Zayn, to keep him from leaving or to ask him another question. He wants to tell him no, fuck sound check, why are you telling me you love me? What does that mean? Why are you acting like this?

It doesn’t matter though. Zayn walks by him, his hand brushing light over the top of Niall’s as he passes him and leaves the room.

*

The Japan leg finishes, and then they have ten days off. Ten glorious, easy, blissful days with no plans, nowhere to be, nothing to do. By this point they all have a kind of pact that the short breaks in the middle of tour are for them alone, not to be spent with each other unless absolutely necessary. if they want to hang with each other during the big breaks between tours, that’s fine, but the short breaks should be used to see their families or girlfriends or mates back home if they can get there. 

It’s kind of brutal to fly from Japan back to his flat for a few days only to fly to Singapore in a little over a week, but Niall barely thinks twice before going online and booking a flight to the UK as quickly as he can. He thinks Liam and Louis have already left for home and he’s got no idea where Zayn’s gotten off to. 

He thinks Harry is staying in Japan - that was the plan the last time he mentioned it to Niall at least - and Niall doesn’t want to think about how weird it’s going to be without Harry in his space for the next ten days. How he’s gotten used to Harry coming to his room first thing in the morning and playing guitar with him in their down time and spending his nights in Niall’s room, watching the telly or flicking through the channels or just sitting there, another body next to him, the feel and smell of Harry near him almost all the time. 

Which is...it’s just a lot for Niall to think about right now. All the Harry things. He pushes them to the back of his brain again, too many thoughts of tour and the band and Zayn in there already. 

Niall lands at Heathrow early in the morning and gets back to his flat in record time. He unlocks the door and is greeted with the damp, musty, un-lived in smell he’s gotten used to over the years. He cracks open a window and finds a fat, vanilla scented candle Harry brought over last time Niall complained about how his flat smells when he gets home from tour. (He fishes out a lighter from the junk drawer in the kitchen and remembers how he barely mentioned it to Harry that once, and the very next time Niall saw him Harry had gotten him a candle, just because of some random comment Niall had made once.)

Niall isn’t thinking about that though. He’s not thinking about Harry or where he is right now or the time he bought Niall a candle. He’s not thinking about Zayn or the things Zayn said to him. He’s not thinking about how he didn’t tell any of the other’s that Zayn went to see him, or how Zayn told Niall he loved him, or how when he said it it looked like every word was breaking his heart. 

He’s not thinking about how he keeps remembering what Louis said to him. About how maybe he’s never gotten over Harry as much as he’s tried to tell himself he has. How everything now feels different, how everything feels off and weird and not right with all of them. How the five of them don’t seem to fit anymore, for the first time in maybe forever. 

He doesn’t think about any of it, and he’s not going to. It’s break so Niall’s got just under ten days to not think. He flops down face first on the couch, and sleeps for twelve hours straight. 

*

Ten days goes by quicker than Niall could have imagined. He doesn’t hear from anyone other than Harry who just decided to keep texting random pictures to Niall at all hours of the night. One morning Niall woke up to six pictures of a fat, little brown bird that was hanging out on Harry’s balcony, and another night he could barely fall asleep because Harry insisted on sending him fifteen different pictures of the salad he ordered for himself from room service for dinner. 

Niall doesn’t see anyone really until sound check, and they all spend a few minutes catching up with each other. Niall knows what Harry’s been up to, torturing Niall with random texts at all hours of the day and night, and Liam and Louis both went home as well; Liam to spend some time with Sophia and Louis to visit his mum and his whole lot of siblings. 

Niall tries to find Zayn to see how he’s doing, and what he’s been up to, but every time he manages to catch him Zayn slips off, mobile pressed to his ear and his head down. Niall’s not really happy about that, but he figures he’ll make sure to catch Zayn after the show tonight. 

In Singapore, Niall does the call backstage. Harry waits until they’re all in a loosely formed circle before cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting, “Now let’s do this shit!” and before anyone else has a chance Niall says, “Can you say it like a fish trying to talk under water?”

Harry catches Niall’s eye and beams. He puts one hand on either side of his face with his palms out and wiggles his fingers. His lips are puckered into - well into a weird _fish_ shape if Niall’s being honest - and when he says it again he most definitely sounds like someone, or some _thing_ is babbling words under water. 

Niall cannot stop laughing. 

“This gets stupider and stupider every night.” Louis slings an arm around Niall’s shoulders and sighs. “It’s like we’re making him even more mentally deficient than he already is, you know what I mean?”

“Hey!” Harry stomps his foot, and Niall can’t take it, he physically doubles over from laughing so hard. 

Harry narrows his eyes. “ _Niall_.”

“All right, lads.” Liam claps his hands and everyone comes in close. Even Zayn is back, and when Niall catches his eye Zayn smiles at him, just a little bit. “Let’s have a good show.”

*

The Hong Kong show starts off like any of the others. 

They all meet up for sound check early in the afternoon, and the first thing Louis does is jump on Liam’s back and make him race around the arena. Harry follows Niall around with his guitar for a little bit, pestering Niall to show him something new to play. He’s got his hair pulled back from his face and twisted up in a weird bun on the top of his head. Niall barely finds a spot to sit down with him, before Louis comes up from behind them both, jumps down from Liam’s back, and yanks the rubber band out of Harry’s hair. 

“Actual children they are,” Liam says, watching Harry and Louis chase each other around the empty stadium seats. Liam’s voice couldn’t be more fond. Niall tilts his head and looks back at him, but as soon as he tries to catch Liam’s eye he’s looking away, searching someone else out. 

“Hey, Zayn!” Liam calls when he spots him. Zayn’s on the opposite side of the stage, head tucked in close talking to Cal and Preston. He looks back at Liam and holds his hand up in a _be there in a sec_ gesture. 

Liam waves him off. “Come on over when you’re done then, yeah?” he calls out. 

Niall takes a deep breath and rocks back on his heels. He knows Liam’s one of the closest people to Zayn, maybe second only to Louis. Definitely closer than Niall is. Niall wonders if Zayn went to talk to Liam too like he did Niall. Did he talk to Louis? Did he talk to all of them separately, and they’re all being daft in not telling each other?

The not knowing is making him crazy. 

“Ready for the show tonight, Nialler?” Liam asks. His smile is sunny, his grin infectious. 

Niall beams at him and answers the only way he knows how. “Always.”

Everything starts to go slowly downhill from there. 

The energy backstage that night is awful. Niall can feel it. Louis is overly loud and jumpy, even for him. Liam keeps fiddling with his phone one minute, then wandering over to where Zayn’s sat on the sofa with his head back and eyes closed the next. Harry is on the opposite side of the room from Niall, chewing on his thumb, his eyebrows furrowed. He catches Niall’s eye and shrugs the tiniest bit with his shoulders. 

Niall gets it. He knows how Harry feels. 

“Oi, oi!” Nill calls out. He claps his hands together and waves the rest of them toward him. It looks like everyone else is too far in their own heads to remember this, but tonight is a _show_. They’ve got to get themselves together. 

“Come on, everyone over here.” Niall flaps his hands around, tucking himself into Harry when Harry is the first one over with his arms out. 

“All right?” Harry whispers against the top of Niall’s head. 

Niall twists his fingers in the back of Harry’s ratty black t-shirt and nods. He hopes so, at least. 

“Yeah, ‘m’good.” Niall squeezes Harry tight before before letting go. He sees Louis staring at him with his beady little eyes, and Niall holds Louis’ gaze and claps his hands together. Loudly. 

“I said, _come on_ , everyone!”

Louis purses his lips and saunters over. Any other night of his life Niall would be scared to death of the look Louis is giving him, but tonight he’s got more important things on his mind. 

“Well look at this,” Louis says slowly. He reaches out and Niall lurches back, just barely missing getting his nipple twisted off. “Our little Niall is taking control.”

“Well someone has to while the rest of you lot are just sitting around, moping up the place,” he answers easily. 

Liam and Zayn have finally joined them, their heads tucked in close together. Zayn’s in a white t-shirt and Liam’s got on a t-shirt with a red plaid flannel over it. It looks kind of like the one Harry wore that one entire summer. He wore it so many times the buttons had fallen off and there were threads poking out from every seam. 

Niall’s got no idea why he remembers that. He has no idea why he’s making sure to notice everything right now. Why the sight of the bandana hanging out of Liam’s back pocket, and the way the hair swoops over the tops of Louis eyes is pinging in his brain. 

They’re all together though, finally, and Niall starts clapping his hands and stamping his feet. “Come on, come on, come on! All hands out!”

He sticks his hand down first and Harry immediately covers it with his own. Next is Liam, then Louis and finally Zayn. 

“All right, lads,” Harry says easily. He looks at all of them quickly, his green eyes lighting on Niall’s and holding for a second longer than the rest. Something zips up Niall’s spine, but he pushes it to the side. There’s no time for that now. “Let’s do this shit!”

“Can you say it like the first time you said it?” Zayn asks. Niall turns to look at him and realizes all the rest of them are looking at Zayn the same. Zayn’s eyes are dark. His voice is low. “The way you said it that very first time, before our first show.”

Harry licks his lips. Niall can feel Harry’s fingers tighten around his in the pile and Niall flips it so their palms are touching. 

“Yeah, yeah I can,” Harry says. “Say it loud and sing it like a song it was, right?”

Instead of being loud though, they’re all anything but. It’s all so much different than the way they do this every night. Usually it’s booming voices and yelling and laughter and carrying on, but tonight it’s quiet and simple. All their hands are together, and they all step in closer, making their circle of five tight, everyone’s shoulders touching so they’re linked in one continuous loop.

After a moment, Harry quietly sings, “Let’s doooo this shiiiittttt.” He somehow makes his voice lilt higher than what’s normal for now, and Niall shivers. For a split second he sounds so much like what he used to that Niall closes his eyes, and squeezes them shut. 

There’s a seconds worth of a pause, and then Zayn is the first one to pull his hand away. He steps back and rubs his fingers over his jaw. Niall tries to catch Zayn’s eye but he can’t. Zayn is looking off to the side and takes a small step back, causing the rest of their hands to fall out of the pile. 

The quiet is broken then, the loud sounds of the backstage invading their little bubble. They split apart and all head off to get their in-ears set, and by the time they hit the stage and Niall hears the first notes and the roar of the crowd he almost forgets there was anything off about the night at all. 

Three hours later, Zayn is gone. 

*

Louis is livid. They’re all piled into his suite at the hotel, hours after the show officially ended. Niall’s sat on the corner of Louis’ bed, alternating watching Louis stalk back and forth across the room, kicking and throwing everything that comes across his path, and staring down at his own mobile, checking to see if Zayn’s texted or called. 

He hasn’t, not once since they all gathered backstage and couldn’t find him for the first time. He swipes the screen open and texts Zayn himself again, but the message sits there, unread like all the others. 

_Zayn. Call me please. Doesn’t matter what time I just need to know you’re all right_.

“I just don’t understand,” Liam says for what feels like the thousandth time. “How could he just leave.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as we think,” Harry says hopefully. Niall looks over to where Harry is leaned back against the headboard and watches his face. Harry avoids his eyes and only looks down to pick at his cuticles. The fact that he’s not looking at Niall pretty much sums up what Niall had already thought on his own:

Harry’s trying to be optimistic, but he doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying. 

“Oh it’s as bad as we think,” Louis snaps. “And if you’d bothered to pay attention to things for once, maybe you’d--”

Harry sits up and glares. “Hey, don’t give me shit just because--”

“Enough, the both of you.” Niall almost yells. His voice is louder than he had planned on, but at least it’s stopped Louis’ pacing for a split second. “Tommo, lay off Harry, yeah? None of this is his fault.”

“Yeah, I--”

“Oi, and Harry, just…” Niall looks back at Harry whose face has gone pinched and tight. “Just enough, all right? We don’t know what’s going on right now - _none_ of us do” he adds when Louis looks like he’s ready to interrupt again. “But the last thing we need is to all be snapping at each other.”

They’re all silent for a moment, until Liam sighs. “Niall’s right.”

Louis kicks a pillow across the floor and groans dramatically.

Liam’s mouth tips down into a frown. “Louis--”

“I know he’s right, Liam, Jesus Christ,” Louis bites out. His voice goes gentle after that though. “That’s part of why I’m so mad. When did we let _Niall_ get to be the voice of reason.”

He finally stops pacing, which is a good sign. When Niall catches his eye Louis manages the faintest smile at him, and then at Harry. 

“Sorry, H.”

Harry nods. “Yeah. You too.”

The sound of Niall’s mobile buzzing stops them all from saying anything else, and they all freeze while he fumbles for it on the bed. It’s not Zayn though, just Cal checking to see if Niall knows where Harry is because he’s not answered any of his calls or texts. 

“Check your phone, Hazza. Cal’s trying to get you.”

They all sigh and it feels like the air is being sucked from the room. 

Harry laughs then, but it’s the saddest, emptiest laugh Niall’s ever heard from him. “Think I’ll pass. The last time Cal told me he needed me for a mo, well…”

He trails off but he doesn’t need to finish. Niall’s sure they’re all remembering the same thing. 

After the show ended they all ran backstage grabbing towels and waters and giving each other high fives, everyone talking loudly over somebody else. It was exactly the same as it always is after a show: loud, chaotic. Niall didn’t notice anything was off really, until he turned around at one point and realized the others had all split off from him. 

Louis was with Alberto in the far corner, their heads tipped together, and Harry was across the room with Cal. Liam was with Preston and Niall didn’t know why, how come everyone was getting pulled off into different directions. He looked around for Zayn to try and see who had grabbed him, but he didn’t see him anywhere. He doesn’t know how he knew, but he knew right then that something was wrong. It felt like a stone was sinking in his stomach. 

“Niall, hey.”

Niall had looked up and found Basil coming toward him. He was trying to smile, but his eyes were dark. 

“Come with me for a second, I’ve got to talk to you quick.”

Niall didn’t hear much after that. _Zayn had to leave. Something personal came up. We’ll keep the rest of you posted with any new updates_.

Nothing he was saying was news, though. Niall had known something was wrong with Zayn for weeks. Hell, if he’s being honest he’s fairly sure they all knew something was going on. That’s partly why Louis is so mad now, Niall thinks. Because Louis knew damn well that something like this could happen, just like Niall did. 

“Fuck it. I’m going for a smoke,” Louis announces. Liam stands up from where he’s been sat on the floor with his back to the door of Louis’ suite. 

“I’ll go with you,” he says. “I’ll try Sophia again too, see if she knows anything from Perrie.”

Niall waves them off and they leave with a soft snick of the door behind them. When they’re gone the silence is overwhelming. He looks back at Harry who’s got a hand over his eyes, and is taking long, slow breaths. 

“Haz.”

Harry shudders. “Niall,” he says, voice so low Niall can barely hear him. “Niall what’s happening?”

Niall picks up his mobile one more time and checks for messages. There are none. 

“I wish I knew,” he answers.

*

The four of them spend the next three days in a kind of fog, showing up to meetings and briefings and talks whenever they’re called to. They put out statements and answer questions and huddle together whenever they can. Niall can’t remember the last time they’ve all been at the same place for multiple meals a day, but Zayn leaving has made them all start to lean on each other a little more. 

The official reason given for Zayn’s disappearance is stress, but Niall knows it’s more than that. 

The night of the Philippines show they stand together backstage closer than they have in months. Harry's hair is so long it’s covering his eyes and he barely moves to push it back. Niall’s been trying to keep everyone’s spirits up and Liam’s been helping as well, but Harry’s miserable and Louis swings from shouting and swearing at the top of his lungs to angrily jabbing at his phone every minute of the day. 

“You ready Haz?”

Liam’s voice is calm. Niall leans into him, feels Liam press back and Niall knows it isn't fair - Liam is hurting as much as the rest of them - but Niall feels like it’s their responsibility to take care of Louis and Harry. If he and Liam can somehow manage to get everyone to keep it together until Zayn comes back ( _if_ he comes back Niall’s brain supplies, but he shuts that thought down as quickly as it comes) then they’ll have accomplished more than the band has collectively in the past five years. 

Harry breathes out a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we’re ready.” He looks up then and looks from Louis, to Liam, and finally to Niall where his eyes lock. Niall doesn’t look away. Whatever Harry needs from him, he’s going to give it. Harry wouldn’t even have to ask.

“All right, boys. Let’s do this shit.”

“Can you say it like--” Louis starts, then stops. Niall holds his breath because all he can hear in his head is _Can you say it like Zayn would say it? Can you say it like you said it before all this happened? Can you say it like everything is going to be all right?_

“Can you say it like an American,” Louis finally finishes with, and they all laugh a little. 

“An American?”

“Yeah, you know. With your horrible American accent.”

Harry shoots Louis a look, but he clears his throat and says, in quite honestly the worst American accent Niall’s ever heard, “Oi, Ishamael, let’s do this shit.”

It works though, enough for them all to laugh and put their hands together in a pile. Niall closes his eyes, says a little silent prayer that they can do this; that the show will be all right, before pulling his hand away and waving Harry and Louis off as they finish getting ready to go out on stage. 

Liam’s stayed back, and when Niall looks at him he knows Liam’s thinking the same things he is. 

“How’s Harry been?” Liam asks. 

Niall shrugs. “Ok at times. Not great at others. Pretty much what you’d expect.” He pauses then asks, “Louis?”

Liam is quiet and shakes his head. “The same.”

And it’s awful, is the thing. It’s awful and it’s unfair and it’s confusing. No one’s heard from Zayn, no one has any answers. 

“We have to expect he’s coming back, right?” Liam asks. He looks at Niall hopefully. “I mean, I know he’s been stressed but he never said…” he trails off and when he speaks again it’s not to say what Niall’s expecting.

“Lou and El are having problems too.” Liam sighs. Niall can see how genuinely worried he is. “I just can’t stop thinking that it’s going to be the same, you know? Zayn was stressed so he… And now Louis, he’s upset about Zayn, and about El, and it’s just - what if it gets to be too much? What if the next time it’s Louis who--”

“Louis isn’t going anywhere,” Niall says flatly. There aren’t many things Nial knows, especially these days, but the one thing he’s certain of is Louis is never going to be the one to want to leave the band. “He’d rather die.”

“I thought that about Zayn too though, you know?” Liam runs a hand through his hair and makes all the end pieces stand up crazily. Niall knows when Lou sees him shes going to commit a murder trying to fix it before they hit the stage. “I thought Zayn was all in like the rest of us but--”

“Did you though?”

Niall’s question stops Liam mid sentence. Because Niall knew Zayn wasn’t happy lately, not like the rest of them are. And he knows Liam knows it too, even if it’s hard for him to admit. 

Liam sighs again. He looks from Niall and out into the chaos of what it’s like backstage before a show. The noise and the clatter and people rushing around all of them. Liam loves it, Niall knows. Niall loves it too. But at some point Zayn stopped loving it. Niall thinks they all kind of knew that as well. 

“Can you keep an eye on Harry?” Liam asks. Niall is nodding before he even finishes his sentence. “I’ll stay with Louis.”

“And what about you?” Niall’s worried about Liam too. Zayn was the first person Liam was close with all those years back. They were the quietest ones from the start. Zayn and Liam had something before any of the rest of them did, and Niall thinks maybe Liam doesn’t realize that people remember that, that Niall remembers that, and that he knows Liam is hurting just as much.

“I’ll be fine, Nialler,” Liam says. He smiles and it almost reaches his eyes. If Niall didn’t actually know him he might have even believed it. “You just watch out for Harry and yourself, yeah? I’ll be good.”

He leaves then and Niall can hear Lou shouting from the minute he’s close enough for her to see how badly he’s messed up his hair. Niall’s as good as ready, so he fiddles with his mobile for a second, checking to make sure there’s still no new messages before shoving it deep in his back pocket when he sees there are none. 

The pre-show video package music starts from off stage, and Niall hears the crowd erupt. “Ok,” he mutters to himself quietly. “Let’s do this shit.”

*

The end comes in the form of a single page, simply written email that is so professional and detached Niall feels like he’s hallucinating it all. 

They sit together, the four of them on Niall’s bed, and read it silently. Niall had known deep down that this was going to be the end result, he thinks they all did, but everything about them as a group has always defied the impossible. Niall thought that if anyone would be able to come back from this - if any band in the history of the world would have a member leave for a short break and then _come back_ , everything better than it had been before and ready to keep going - it would be them. 

One Direction was going to be the band to do it first. They were going to be the ones to let someone go, to leave a space for him on stage, to leave his seat open and put their arms around where he should be standing and in a few days, a week, a month, he would come back. They were just waiting for him. 

“I’m tired of fucking reading it.” Louis tosses his mobile across the room. Niall’s got his legs crossed and his back against the headboard. Harry is right next to him, leaned into Niall’s side, his thumb scrolling the email up and down over and over again. Niall doesn’t know why he keeps reading it, the words are never going to change. Zayn’s gone and he didn’t tell a single one of them. They got to read it in an email forwarded by their handlers the same way the rest of the world did. 

“ _Wants to be a normal twenty two year old_ ,” Louis mutters. His eyes are dark. Niall can’t remember the last time he’s seen Louis so angry. Liam reaches out and pats Louis’ shoulder and Louis turns into Liam, presses his head against Liam’s shoulder and takes a deep, shaky breath. 

Not angry then. Hurt. 

“I’m sure we’ll hear from him soon,” Liam murmurs. Louis snuffles against Liam’s shoulder. Next to him Harry burrows in closer and Niall reaches up to scritch his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

Louis stays put for a minute more, then stands up so quickly the pillows around him fall off the edge of the bed. 

“I need to take a walk. Or have a smoke or, I don’t know. A fucking joint or something.” 

His blue eyes are flashing, the expression on his face wild. Niall shoots a look at Liam who’s already half to his feet and making his way to Louis’ mobile laying in a pile of Niall’s dirty laundry on the floor. 

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, Liam, I don’t want--”

“I don’t really care what you want, Tommo.” Liam’s voice is firm. Even Harry straightens up from Niall’s shoulder to pay a bit more attention. 

“I know you’re upset, but we all are.” Liam’s voice wobbles and he angrily wipes at his eyes. “I’m just - I mean, I want to--”

Louis closes the space between them and hugs Liam tightly. Niall can hear Liam’s breath hitching. Louis buries his face in the curve between Liam’s neck and shoulder and says something to him, his voice softer than Niall has ever heard.

It’s Louis who looks at Niall this time, his gaze sharp. 

“I’m taking him for a walk,” he says, voice more gentle than the look in his eyes would suggest. He glances at Harry then back at Niall. “We’ll be back later, yeah?”

Niall waves them off, the door making a quiet snick as it closes behind the two of them. It’s just him and Harry then, and Niall scoots down so he’s laying on the bed, pulling at Harry's shoulder until Harry is lying down next to him. 

They’re face to face, Harry’s hair tangled and knotted where it spills across Niall’s pillow. His eyes are rimmed red, his cheeks blotchy. Harry’s always the first of them to cry - it’s barely even a thing anymore with how often he cries over happy things, or when he gets super excited for something - but this, him crying because he’s overcome with sadness is something Niall’s never seen before. He’s never wanted to. He hopes he never will again. 

“Harry. Haz.”

Niall pokes at Harry’s cheek and Harry’s lips curve the smallest amount, almost like he’s trying at a watery smile. 

“We didn’t even have a vote,” Harry whispers. He grabs Niall’s hand where it was resting on Harry’s cheek and pulls it down between them, twisting their fingers together. The ring on Harry’s middle finger digs into Niall’s but he doesn’t try to pull it away, just holds Harry’s hand tighter. 

“That’s what we’ve always done, right? Any changes, we have a vote. Songs for the albums. Tours.” Harry sucks in a breath, his chest hitching when he exhales. “We fucking _vote_ on things, Niall. As a band, as a _team_. No one of us is supposed to just fucking _leave_.”

“You’re right,” Niall tells him. It doesn’t help, Harry’s still just as upset and the more Niall watches Harry’s eyes fill up, the more his own chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. He’s got a hollow spot now, sitting just under his breastbone. He’s never been in love with someone who’s left him before, and not that he was in love with Zayn but he loved him - loves him - as much as it’s possible to love another human. He loves them all, and with one of them gone it feels like nothing is ever going to be the same. 

“It’s not right, Haz. It sucks and it’s not fair.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He’s still got Niall’s hand in his and he squeezes. Niall can’t stop himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips against Harry’s forehead. 

“You want to go for a walk?” Niall asks. Harry shakes his head no. “A run?”

“Ew. No.”

Niall smiles a little. Harry looking at him horrified like he is now is better than the face he’s had on all morning since he first knocked at Niall’s door, mobile clutched in his hand and his face white. 

“You want to get drunk?”

“At eleven am?” Harry asks. And ok, maybe not. 

“Well I don’t know, Haz. We’re just lying here, staring at each other,” Niall laughs quietly as Harry settles back into the pillow, a small smile touching his face. “What do you want to do?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m good with just staying here if you are. Just - I don’t really think I want to see anyone else right now, all right?” He blinks, and his eyes well up again. Niall curls an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulls him in just as they start shaking.

“Let’s just stay here, yeah?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Niall whispers. He pulls Harry closer and closes his eyes. “You and me, we’ll stay here.”

* 

There’s only four shows after Zayn leaves until the break, and they all do their best to muddle through on stage as a foursome. Niall misses running over to Zayn with his guitar, playing along while Zayn carries the melody, but he knows it’s much harder on the others: Harry and Liam because they pick up a lot of Zayn’s vocal spots, and Louis because he sometimes just seems so lost without him. 

The night of the last show has everyone more amped up than usual. Backstage is always chaotic, but this is the last show for two months, and Niall can feel it in every single person that passes him by. The techs are ready and the band is ready. Niall is ready, he thinks, to spend the next two months trying to relax and take some time for himself and get ready for the next leg of the tour. Next they’re in America during the summer months, and if Niall’s learned anything over the past five years it’s that America can get _hot_ in the summer.

“Hey.” Harry steps up from behind Niall and curls his fingers around Niall’s hip. Niall turns around and finds Harry smiling at him easily.

He’s been smiling a bit more the past day or so. Niall has had Harry in his room more often than not, and while he did take Zayn leaving pretty hard right at the start, he seems to have accepted it a bit more as the days and shows go on. Niall thinks they all needed a show or two to see how they fit together as a foursome, to make sure they could still be _them_. It was different at first and Niall still finds himself turning around looking for Zayn more often than not, but overall he thinks they’re doing ok. 

Niall smiles back and pats Harry’s hand where it’s still resting on his hip. “Hey, H. Last show for a bit. Ready for a break?”

Harry chuckles, slow and soft. “I’m going to sleep for like a month when I get to LA.”

Niall keeps the smile on his face, but something twinges in his belly. He’s got no idea why; Harry goes to his LA house all the time. They’ve got a two month break and Niall’s going to _his_ house, so why wouldn’t Harry do the same?

It’s just weird to think of. Harry’s been so completely in Niall’s space recently, so embedded in his life and every move he makes Niall doesn’t know how to feel about two months of Harry being away. It feels wrong, somehow. Niall doesn’t know why the idea is bothering him so much. 

It’s probably because Zayn leaving is still so fresh. Things are just seeming like they’re getting back to normal for the four of them that to have them all split up right now seems almost unfair. It’s not Harry specifically Niall is going to miss. It’s everything. 

(It’s definitely not because Niall’s been watching Harry more when they’re together. Thinking about Harry and what and how Niall feels about him. Looking at Harry’s hands, and his mouth, and sometimes closing his eyes when they’re laying together and thinking about what it would feel like to wake up next to Harry on purpose, with intent.)

“That sounds good,” Niall says instead. “Fun. Relaxing.”

His face feels frozen and his smile feels forced. Harry’s eyebrows pinch together and he looks like he’s about to ask Niall what’s wrong when Liam and Louis come up, Louis throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulders and dragging him close. 

“You ready to lead us in, young Harold?”

Harry chuckles and holds Niall’s gaze for a moment more before looking up at Louis and Liam. He’s got the short sleeves of his t-shirt pushed up so they bunch at his shoulders, and his hair is loose, falling in long curls over his eyes. He pushes his hair back and cracks the gum he’s chewing, his lips already curved in a smile. 

“Yeah.” Harry sticks his hand out first and Niall puts his on top. Liam covers Niall’s and then Louis is the last one. 

“Let’s do this shit,” Harry says. He flips so his hand is palm up at the bottom of the pile and Niall curls his fingers around Harry’s without even thinking about it. Harry rubs his thumb over Niall’s skin and Niall shivers. 

“Can you say it like--” Niall starts then stops. Harry’s watching him closely, and Niall can’t stop the thoughts that are swirling around in his head. _Can you say it like you’re coming with me? Can you say it like you’re not leaving?_

The three of them are staring at him, waiting for Niall to finish. Niall pulls his hand out from Harry’s and wipes on the back of his jeans. 

“Can you say it like we’re going on break tomorrow?” Niall finally spits out, and god, he sounds awful, like he’s choking down a mouthful of glass. 

Harry sharpens his gaze. “Like we’re going on break tomorrow?” he asks, his voice hinting at a laugh. “How would that sound?”

Niall shakes his head. He has to look away before whatever he’s thinking about Harry (and Harry’s hands, and lips and mouth) starts showing on his face, but his mistake is he looks directly at Louis who’s smirking at him as if he can read Niall’s mind. 

“Yes, Niall, how _would_ that sound?”

“Fuck off, Tommo.”

Louis’ breaks into laughter, and Harry is still watching Niall curiously, his head tilted to the side. “You all right, Niall? Do you have a better one?” he asks helpfully. “Something else to give me?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d like to give you _something_ ,” Louis mumbles, then yelps when Niall stomps on his foot. 

Harry’s lips curl in a slow smile, and when he looks at Niall his gaze is heavy. 

“You have something to give me, Ni?” Harry asks quietly.

Niall is completely speechless. This never happens to him. He blames Louis entirely. He would literally reach out and put his hands around Louis’ throat if he thought it would do any good. 

As it is he can just shake his head and agree with Liam when he says, “All right, lads. Harry, say it like someone who’s had one too many drinks and is going on a break tomorrow, yeah?” Liam looks at Niall, and practically rolls his eyes. “Niall? Is that alright with you?”

Niall manages to look away from Harry and down to his feet on the floor. His trainers are getting really beat up. Maybe he’ll do some shopping on the break too. 

“ _Niall_ ,” Liam repeats, and “Yes, yeah. Sure,” Niall answers, because this has to end eventually, right? They have to get on stage at some point. 

“All right, then,” Harry says. He’s still watching Niall with a look Niall’s not used to seeing directed at him, but he’s not going to think about that now, not when they’re ten minutes from starting a full show. “Let’s do this shit,” Harry says, pitching his voice low then high and warbly. All in all a pretty good rendition of when he’s actually been the one who’s had too much to drink.

“Thank god,” Liam mutters. “Any longer and they’d have to start the show without us.”

Niall grimaces. “Sorry, Li.”

Liam isn’t really bothered though, if the way he ruffles Niall’s hair before he walks away is anything to go by. Louis stares at Niall some more, then reaches out and smacks Niall’s cheek before running away. 

That leaves just Harry then, standing there watching him carefully. 

Niall looks up, and takes a deep breath as he holds Harry’s gaze. Harry’s eyes are bright green. Niall’s looked at Harry probably a million times in his life, but Harry’s never looked back at him quite like this. Like he’s trying to see all the things Niall isn’t saying. Like he can somehow look inside Niall’s mind and find everything out for himself. Everything Niall is thinking, everything he’s feeling. 

And for the first time in maybe forever, Niall let’s him see. 

The silence stretches between them, almost like a thin string being pulled tighter and tighter before it snaps. When it finally does, Harry breathes out slowly. 

“Oh,” he whispers. “All right.”

Niall wants to ask him what he means, what does he think he knows, but just then Cal walks past with his camera, telling them both they only have five minutes to get ready before heading out. 

“When are you leaving for home?” Harry asks quietly.

Harry steps so close Niall can smell the cinnamon gum he’s chewing. He can smell the shampoo Harry uses in his hair. Niall’s breath hitches and his heart thuds in his chest. 

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Huh.” Harry’s mouth curves in a slow smile. His eyes flicker to Niall’s mouth and back up again so quickly Niall’s half convinced he imagined it. “Good to know,” he says, as he takes a step back and starts to walk away.

And oh, Niall is fucked. 

*

Niall paces the floor in his hotel room, chewing on the ragged edge of his thumbnail and jumping out of his skin every time he hears even the slightest sound from out in the hall. Not that he’s expecting anyone ( _Harry_ , his brain supplies. _He’s waiting for Harry_ ) but his insides are all twisted up. They have been since whatever that was that happened before the show tonight. 

Niall can still picture the way Harry was looking at him when they were backstage. The way he was watching Niall as if he was waiting for something. Like he was waiting for Niall to say something or do something. The rest of the show went like that too. No matter where Niall was standing or singing or dancing or playing his guitar, Harry was always there. Standing next to him, singing in his direction, his eyes locked with Niall’s and the air thick whenever they got too close. 

After the show was over Niall bolted. He jumped in the first car he saw outside the venue and didn’t even wait to see if anyone wanted to ride with him, instead telling the driver to take off and bring Niall back to the hotel. Maybe it’s him being a coward, he’s got no idea, but the idea of standing around, waiting to see what was going to happen and what Harry was going to say or ask him was too much. 

Now he’s back though and it’s not much better. Louis texted him a few times and Liam texted once to tell Niall to have a good break. Niall isn’t going to see them again for months - he might not see Harry for months - and it’s that thought that has him doing something about it. He digs his mobile out and flicks it open to send Harry a text and see where he’s at right now. Niall has no idea what he’ll say when Harry answers him, he hasn’t thought that far ahead yet, but he’s at least got to ask. 

Before he can send anything though, someone knocks at his door. 

“Niall.”

Niall freezes. He waits out the silence and feels his heart stop, before stuttering double time when the knocking starts again. 

“Niall,” Harry repeats. Niall can hear his fingers tap lightly, and he shoves his mobile back in his pocket and fumbles with the door. His hands are sweaty, and the first time he goes to twist the lock he misses. By the time he finally gets it open Harry is leaning against the door jamb, watching him with a soft smile. 

Harry’s hair is wet and combed back away from his face. His skin looks scrubbed clean and he smells like his travel shampoo and soap. Niall figures he took a shower at the venue, or back in his own room, Niall’s not really sure where. He’s got on a pair of old black jeans and a tight white t-shirt and he’s just watching Niall, his eyes never leaving Niall’s face. 

“Hey, Harry. You all right?”

“‘M’allright, yeah.”

Harry flicks his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Niall feels like the skin is pulled too tight on his body, like he doesn’t fit inside himself anymore and he needs something to grab onto. He curls his fingers into fists and sucks in a deep breath, all the while never looking away from Harry’s eyes. 

They stand in silence for another minute. It’s so quiet Niall can hear the ice machine down the hall clink and crash as the cubes fall out of the trays. He hears the elevator doors ping and someone laughing around the bend in the hall and the thumping from his own heartbeat in his ears. 

Harry looks past Niall’s shoulder and into his room, then back to Niall’s face. 

“Can I come in?”

“What am I, the fecking queen?” Niall quips. Nerves make his voice choppy and fast. “You’ve been practically living here for a month. Tonight you need an invitation?”

He’s expecting Harry to laugh, to shove past him and throw the stuff that’s on Niall’s bed onto the floor before flopping down face first onto the covers. That’s what Harry’s done nearly every time he’s come to Niall’s room recently. He comes in and they laugh or they order food or they cry about Zayn. 

Harry never just stands there, watching, his eyes heavy with the things neither of them are saying. 

“I think tonight you should ask me to come in.” Harry’s voice is soft. Niall measures each breath he pulls into his lungs, holds onto it before breathing back out. “If you want me to, that is.”

“I do,” Niall says, because if there’s one thing he’s sure of right now it’s this. “Come in. I mean, if you want.”

Niall steps back and Harry walks over the threshold into his room. He closes the door behind him, and Niall barely has time to think how different this feels, how everything tonight seems like so much more than it’s ever been before, when Harry puts his hands on Niall’s hips and walks him back against the wall. 

“I do want,” he murmurs. He drops his face into the curve of Niall’s neck and touches his mouth there. Niall can feel Harry’s chest move against his as he hitches in a rough breath. “I do. Niall, can I--”

When he picks his head up Harry’s eyes are wild, the green brighter than Niall has ever seen. He only has a split second to think, _this is what you do to him. This is how you make him feel_ before nodding his head and closing his eyes when Harry leans in and kisses him. 

Kissing Harry should feel new and strange and different. He’s not the first bloke Niall’s ever kissed, but he’s the first one Niall’s kissed that he knows this well. He’s the first one that’s not been someone Niall chatted up in a pub, or has been fixed up with by a mate, or just met up with for a quick hookup.

This is _Harry_. Harry who Niall has known for years. Harry who he’s loved just as long. Niall’s seen Harry happy and sad and cross and confused. He’s seen him flirting with fans and with their handlers and people they meet on the street. He’s seen him teasing Louis and dancing with Zayn and telling jokes to Liam and being Niall’s best friend - the closest person Niall’s got - the person he loves more than anyone in the world right now. 

Harry kisses Niall like all of that and then some. He kisses Niall like he knows him and loves him, but it’s also new. It’s: can I kiss you like this, can I tilt your head back and scrape my teeth against your throat. It’s Niall gasping as Harry bites down on the edge of Niall’s jaw, his mouth sucking a spot that Niall knows will be bruised for days. 

“Niall, Niall,” Harry chants quietly. He gently pulls Niall away from the wall and Niall walks backward toward the bed. He trips over a pile of clothes on the floor and Harry stumbles over an open suitcase but they make it eventually, falling back onto the covers and laughing breathlessly. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. Niall scoots so he’s lying on his side and Harry lies next to him, his head propped up on the palm of his hand. 

“My fault,” Niall says softly. “Didn’t finish packing yet.”

Niall can’t look away from the way Harry’s watching him. His stomach is twisted in knots, but he wants so much. He wants Harry to touch him, he wants to feel his mouth again. 

Harry runs the tips of his fingers over the fringe of Niall’s hair, tucking a few loose strands behind his ear. He smiles then, just a small one lifting the edges of his mouth. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Is this weird? We can stop if you want. Like, if it’s not, I don’t know. If it’s a bad idea.”

Niall thinks it could be a bad idea. It’s probably an absolutely terrible idea. 

He also thinks that as much of a bad idea it is, he doesn’t want to stop. 

He doesn’t answer Harry, except to lean forward and kiss him first this time, rather than waiting for Harry to make another move. 

It’s like Niall kissing him snaps whatever shred of control they were both holding onto. Harry moans, loud and broken into the kiss as he curls over him, snaking an arm under Niall’s shoulders and pulling him in close. He slides a hand into the back of Niall’s hair, twisting his fingers and tugging Niall’s head back. 

Niall feels like he’s going crazy. He can’t stop touching Harry all over; his hands are at Harry’s waist tugging his shirt up. His thumbs curl into the waist of Harry’s jeans. Harry’s skin is soft and hot to the touch. Niall drags his fingers up Harry’s spine and Harry shivers, kisses Niall harder. 

“Harry,” Niall gasps. Harry lifts his mouth from Niall’s throat and blinks down at him. His eyes are so dark Niall can barely see any green in them. He stares into Niall’s eyes, then down at his mouth. “Harry, come on.”

Niall scoots so he’s under Harry more. He arches his back and presses his thigh up, Harry moaning, rough and broken and thrusting down against him. 

“Niall, I need to--”

“I know.” Niall is so hard he actually hurts. He takes Harry’s hand in his and shoves it against his dick, moaning out loud when Harry gasps and rocks into him. 

Niall would be lying if he said he’s never thought about this, that he’s never pictured him and Harry together. He’ll admit, he usually pictured a little slower, maybe a little more tentative or nervous, but it’s always been something he’s kept in the back of his mind. Something he would admit to wanting in the late hours of the night, or the early hours of the morning, when sunlight would start peeking through the hotel blinds and Harry would roll over and smile at him sleepily. 

What he didn’t picture was him and Harry together, not being able to wait a second before getting their hands on each other. He never pictured being this reckless, this desperate to feel Harry touching him. They’ve still got all of their clothes on, Harry’s shirt is just rucked up a bit and Niall’s popped the button of his jeans to keep it from digging into his skin, but he can’t stop touching. 

He can feel Harry’s hands everywhere, in the back of his hair and curled around his jaw and down his chest. Harry cups his dick and squeezes in time to Niall’s thrusts, and Niall can’t take it. He can’t stand how easy he is for him already, how the first time he’s got Harry’s mouth and hands on him he’s ready to come. He wants to remember this, wants to savor it, but the way Harry is moving, the quick breaths and the way he can’t stop kissing Niall and moaning into his mouth makes Niall think neither of them are going to last very long. 

“Niall - fuck - can you--”

Niall nods knowing what Harry needs even though he hasn’t even asked him anything yet. He slides his hand over the back of Harry’s jeans, pulling him down, holding him there as he rocks up, harder and faster against him. Niall can tell he’s going to come, he feels it zipping under his skin, lighting every inch of his body. All it takes him is yanking Harry’s head down and setting his teeth against Harry’s neck, biting the hot skin there as he shoves up one final time and comes right there in his jeans. 

Harry comes right after him, Niall’s name on his lips and his fingers digging hard into Niall’s bicep. Niall can feel Harry’s heart pounding where they’re pressed together. He feels gross, sweaty and sticky, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, just falls down against him and buries his face in the side of Niall’s hair. 

“I can’t stay the night,” Harry says, when his breathing slows down to something a little more normal. Niall didn’t think he would, he didn’t even expect him to really, but his heart still twists a bit in his chest. 

“Who asked you to?” he says instead, keeping his voice light, and flicking his fingers against the side of Harry’s head. 

Harry laughs quietly. After a minute he lifts his head, and his hair is a mess over his face. He looks happy though, and his eyes are crinkled at the corners. He looks like Niall’s friend Harry, not a Harry that Niall just shagged. Niall’s not entirely sure what that means. 

“We’re good, yeah?” Harry asks. He makes a face when he shifts around, his jeans probably as uncomfortable as Niall’s are right now. “I mean, that was all right?”

Niall rolls his eyes. He sits up and pats Harry on the head, letting his hand fall away instead of scritching into Harry’s hair like he feels like he wants to. 

“Yes, Harold. We’re good. Great. Now get the fuck out.”

Niall’s laughing as he says it, and he’s fine about it really. He doesn’t want Harry to stay. He doesn’t care that Harry gets up then and straightens his shirt out, running a hand through his hair and patting his pocket for his phone before he backs away from the bed. 

Niall’s great. Everything is great. Harry wishes him a safe flight and Niall tells him to have fun in LA. Niall stays on the bed when Harry makes his way to the door, and when Harry hesitates for a second before leaving, Niall tosses a pillow at his face and tells him to get out before he calls security. 

The last thing Niall hears before the door opens is Harry’s laugh, and his voice quietly telling Niall he’ll speak to him soon. Niall waves, a smile pasted on his face and his throat aching when the door snicks shut. 

Niall flies out on a six AM flight the next morning to Heathrow, and he doesn’t speak to Harry for close to two months. 

*

When Niall first thought about the idea of two months off, the only thing he really had in mind was relaxing. He pictured a lot of sleeping in, and not showering and drinking pints and watching the telly. Maybe once in a while he’d venture out to the store to get more crisps and the like, but he figured he’d not be doing much more than that. He didn’t think he'd actually be _doing_ very much.

Ha. 

He gets about two days to catch up on some sleep and then his brother is ringing him, making him feel guilty for not coming to visit him and Denise and Theo. Niall never misses an opportunity to see his nephew, so he packs up his stuff and heads there for a few days. From there he goes to see his mum and a few of his friends from back home who he’s missed. 

After that he gets a message from Bressie and by some stroke of luck they’re both off, and around, and have no plans. They manage to get together for three whole days, which is close to unheard of. They rent a tiny villa a few hours away and golf all day and drink beers and just chill out, talking all night. Niall tells Bressie everything. Well, almost everything. He tells him about the tour, and about the band, and about Zayn leaving. 

He doesn’t mention Harry though, which is kind of weird. Bressie is an amazing listener and an even better friend and if Niall was to tell anyone about Harry, and what happened the last time they were together, it’s Bressie he’d tell. 

But Niall doesn’t. He doesn’t tell him that they were together. He doesn’t mention how he can still feel Harry’s mouth on him when he closes his eyes, and how he thinks about what happened between them nearly every minute. He doesn’t tell him how he wonders what will happen when he sees Harry again. If they’ll go back to the way they were, or if this means something will be different, if it means something more, maybe. 

Niall doesn’t talk to Bressie about any of that though. It probably just never came up, he reckons. It doesn’t mean anything. 

After he gets back home he meets up with Eoghan one night at a pub, and another day he and Laura manage to get lunch together. He hears from Liam a few times, and Louis once, and Niall himself takes on the brunt of doing a few interviews on his own for the radio since the rest of the lads are more off the grid then he is. He doesn’t mind really; he enjoys visiting Radio 1 and seeing Greg and the rest of them, even if he does spend half his time there trying to avoid Grimshaw in case for some reason Nick’s heard anything from Harry. 

Because Niall hasn’t. Heard from Harry that is. Which is fine, there’s been plenty of breaks where Niall doesn’t hear a peep from any of the lads whatsoever the entire time they’re all apart. This isn’t anything different, really. There’s nothing technically off about it. It just feels a little unsettled is all, especially after what happened the last time they saw each other. 

He’s sure it’s fine.

He tries not to think about Zayn too much when he’s alone. He doesn’t try to text him anymore, or call him either. Zayn has always changed his phones and his numbers more often than he changed his socks, it felt like. Niall knows this. So to think that the number he has for Zayn is still a correct, viable way to get in touch with him is absurd. 

He does allow himself one last night to wallow. He gets as drunk as he can stand, and then he searches the internet for any and every article he can find about him and the lads, and the band, and Zayn leaving. He wants to see what people have to say, what their theories are. He needs to know what people are thinking and what Niall and the rest of them might have missed. 

It doesn’t help. It doesn't get him far and it doesn’t make him feel any better. When he’s had enough, he thinks that taking the night to look it up finally got it all out of his system. He thinks he’s good now. What’s done is done and he doesn’t think he’ll have the desire to ever look again. 

Zayn is off doing his thing, and Niall has the band, and touring, and the lads, and for now that’s got to be all right. Niall doesn’t think he needs much more, actually.

*

The first show back is in Cardiff, and Niall gets to the venue early. They’ve got about a month worth of shows in the UK still, and then they head to America in July. Niall is pumped; he’s ready to take on the rest of this tour and to see the lads and the band and everyone as soon as they get here. He’s jittery and anxious, checking the time every ten minutes and whipping his head around whenever he hears someone coming up from behind him. 

“Did you have too much coffee today, mate?” Josh asks after Niall stands up from where he’s sat on the edge of the stage to stretch and peer around the stadium once more. Niall rolls his eyes and kicks Josh lightly with his foot. 

“No, shut up. I’m just waiting for everybody.”

Josh starts in about how he’s _right there so why would Niall be waiting for anyone else? Not that any of the others will be on time anyway_ blah blah blah. Niall shakes his head and laughs because Josh always manages to crack him up, when he hears a sharp whistle and then Louis’ voice calling out, “Oi, Oi!” at the top of his lungs. 

Niall cups his hands around his mouth and answers, “Oi, Oi!” as loud as he can. 

He can see Josh roll his eyes. “Well, that’s it for quiet time, I suppose,” Josh says, just as Louis comes barreling through the mountains of equipment on the stage and throws himself against Niall. 

“Hello, lad,” Louis says and pats Niall’s cheek. Niall takes a second to really look at Louis, to see how he looks and if anything seems to be off about him.

Louis looks tired but happy. The bags under his eyes are still slightly puffy, but he’s smiling a genuine smile and when he hugs Niall again Niall can feel how tightly he hangs onto him. Niall hasn’t spoken to Louis much since before the break which was right after Zayn left and right when he and Eleanor decided to call it quits. Liam told Niall that Louis was doing surprisingly well though, and seeing him now Niall thinks he believes it. 

“Hey, Lou. All right?”

Louis steps back and grins, just as Liam walks up from behind him and slings an arm around his shoulders. “I’m good, yeah.” He pats Liam’s hand where it’s resting on his shoulder. “Saw my family for a bit. Actually got some sleep. How about you? How was break?”

“It was good.” Niall nods and accepts the quick hug Liam gives him next. “Saw my mum and Theo and Bressie and the others a bit. Relaxed a lot.”

“I don’t think any of us did anything other than sleep,” Liam says around a laugh. His eyes are crinkled in a smile and Niall is just so, so happy to start having his boys back.

The three of them stand around catching up for a few more minutes, and then Niall hears Harry calling out a loud, “Oi, OI!” from somewhere else in the arena. 

“Hazza!” Liam calls. “On the stage!”

It’s like hearing Harry’s voice for just that split second is enough to turn every one of Niall’s nerves to jelly. His heart pounds quicker, and his breath hitches. He bites his lip and drops his head to try and make sure no one can see him acting like a complete and utter twat, but it’s too late; he can feel Louis’ eyes on him already.

Not that it matters. Harry’s here now, hugging Liam and giving Louis some weird high five slap sequence the two of them do together. When he’s closer to Niall, Niall looks up and finds Harry watching him closely, his eyes squinted in an easy smile. 

“Hey, Nialler,” he says softly, and pulls Niall into a hug. 

Niall hugs him back on instinct. He closes his eyes and drops his head against Harry’s shoulder. He tries not to think about how everything inside him seems to calm down when Harry is near. He’s not anxious anymore, or jumpy. He’s got the lads and he’s got Harry and Harry is hugging him tight, his arms wrapped all the way around him. 

“You all right?”

“I’m good, yeah. Thanks, H.”

Harry takes a small step back then, but they’re still close. Niall can smell his cologne and can see how golden Harry’s skin looks from the Los Angeles sun. Breaks do wonders for Harry; he always comes back soft looking and warm and tan and happy. This time is no different, and Niall takes notice of every single thing, from how Harry’s hair looks longer to the new dark blue t-shirt he’s wearing along with his same pair of ratty black jeans and chelsea boots. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks. His voice is so low Niall knows it’s meant for only him. He catches Niall’s eye and Niall can’t look away. All he can see is the memory of Harry in his hotel room. He remembers Harry’s mouth on his, what his hands felt like on Niall’s skin. 

“‘M’great,” Niall answers. 

“Can I come to your room after the show tonight?” Harry’s leaned in again now, his mouth touching the shell of Niall’s ear. Niall shivers. Over Harry’s shoulder he sees Louis watching them suspiciously but Niall looks away. He’ll deal with Louis and his face another time. 

“‘Course,” Niall says easily. “Anytime, H.”

Niall’s trying to make things easy; to have things seem as normal as possible. Yes, the last time he saw Harry the two of them kissed a bit and got each other off and it was good, great even. But that was two months ago and Niall’s not heard from Harry since. 

He’s not mad about it - they’ve always had their own things and their own lives when they’re away from each other - but Niall wasn’t sure if this was something that was going to happen again. He figured they’d joke about it, or forget about it, or make little comments to each other on the side about what happened that one time between the two of them.

He never really thought about them _continuing_ it though. Not that Niall is opposed; that’s not it at all. He just figured this thing with Harry would be more like a one and done. That Harry would go away after they were together and they’d live their lives and by the time he came back he’d have forgotten all about it. 

The way Harry is staring at Niall’s mouth says something different entirely. 

“Great,” Harry says. He finally looks up and into Niall’s eyes. Niall feels his face flush and he looks away. “I can’t wait.”

Niall nods, and when Harry finally wanders off to say hello to the rest of the crew he finally feels like he can breathe again. 

*

Harry does go to Niall’s room after the show. Niall can’t decide if he’s more nervous or excited before Harry gets there, but then Harry’s knocking at the door, and grinning at Niall as he backs him against the door frame and kissing him until he loses his breath. 

Niall slides his hands around the back of Harry’s neck and holds on as Harry kisses down his throat, and across his collarbones, and bites at the sleeve of his shirt. It makes Niall laugh because it’s so normal for them, to be weird and awkward even when they’re snogging, and they spend the rest of the night in Niall’s bed talking and laughing and making out in between.

After Cardiff, they go to Vienna, then Brussels, then Denmark. Niall remembers them all because of the shows like always. He remembers the lights and the crowds and the way he feels every single time he steps out onto the stage. He remembers them all standing together backstage, the four of them closer than ever. Liam makes Harry lead them in by quacking like a duck one night, and Louis tells him to say it like Grimshaw would say it the next. Niall has him meow like a cat when it’s his turn, and they all collapse in a fit of giggles when Harry makes his voice mewl in a near perfect imitation.

This time though, coupled with his memories of them all together as a band in each city, he has other memories too. 

In Vienna Harry comes to Niall’s room straight after the show. His hair is still damp with sweat and his t-shirt is soaked through. He kisses Niall by the floor to ceiling windows, his fingers in Naill’s hair, his mouth hot and wet, kissing him harder and deeper the longer they stand there. Niall tries to shove him off - Harry stinks and could use a shower - but Harry won’t stop. He kisses Niall until his knees go weak, until his hands shake, right there with the pitch black sky studded with stars around them. 

In Brussels Harry goes to Niall’s room and shoves him against the wall when he gets inside. His fingers fumble with the button on Niall’s jeans as he laughs against Niall’s mouth. 

“‘M’gonna suck you off, ok?” Harry’s voice is soft. The look in his eye has Niall breathing in so quickly he chokes. 

“Uhm--”

“I mean, I could always stop.” Harry blinks at him slowly. His fingers are edged under the elastic of Niall’s boxers. His thumb sweeps over Niall’s skin. Niall’s stomach quivers from the way Harry is looking at him, the hot look in his eyes. The idea of Harry stopping - of him _not_ putting his mouth on Niall’s dick right now makes Niall want to cry. 

He wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrist and chokes out, “Don’t you dare,” then lets his head hit the wall as Harry goes to his knees. 

In Denmark Niall falls asleep on his bed waiting for Harry to get there. Harry had said he would be a few minutes when they got back to the hotel - he had to shower and make a few calls - so Niall pressed his key card into Harry’s palm and stretched out on top of the covers to wait for him. 

He wakes up later to the bed dipping down beside him. The room is dark, only one small side table lamp lit, and he blinks sleepily as Harry stretches out next to him. 

“Shit, sorry.” Niall’s voice is thick. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He shuffles around to try and sit up because he’s supposed to be awake, he didn't mean to fall asleep like this. Harry just curls an arm under him and pulls him in close. 

“Ssh. Quiet,” Harry mumbles. It’s then that Niall notices that Harry’s eyes are mostly closed, the skin under them shadowed and heavy. Harry pats at Niall’s hair, and face, and cheek. “Sleep now.”

And that’s...not really what they do now. It’s not anything they’ve done since they started whatever this is. Niall isn’t sure what it means, because he had Harry, his friend who he sat with and cuddled with and brushed the hair back from his face when he was sad. That was the Harry he’d always had. His best friend Harry. His mate. 

But then he got this new Harry. This Harry grins at him from across the stage so deeply that it makes Niall’s skin hot. He laughs with this Harry too, but sometimes it’s laughing when their hands are on each other, or when they’ve just made each other come. This Harry kisses him and puts his mouth on Niall’s dick and he’s Niall’s best mate, yeah, but he’s also so much more. 

Niall’s not had to merge the two of them yet. He’s not had this new Harry in his bed to cuddle like his old Harry had done. He feels oddly offset about it, almost like he can’t figure out how to reconcile the two ideas of him into the one person who’s currently in Niall’s bed with his arm tucked under Niall’s waist and his mouth touching Niall’s skin. 

“Stop thinking so much,” Harry mumbles. He lifts a hand and messes up Niall’s hair, then pulls him in again and kisses the top of his head. “Sleep, yeah? You can think tomorrow.”

Niall lies awake for a long time that night, just listening to Harry breathe. 

*

Louis comes to Niall’s room after the Oslo show. 

Harry is out. He’d made some friends in the town the last time the band played there and was excited to have a night to catch up with a few of them and have some pints. Niall doesn’t mind, of course, but he also didn’t want to go with Harry when he asked if Niall wanted to join him. It just seemed like something that was Harry’s thing and Niall’s fine with that. Nothing says that they _have_ to spend every night together after a show. 

So Niall’s on the sofa in his room messing around with his guitar. He hears knocking and for a split second wonders who’s come to see him, and then there’s Louis’ voice, booming from the hallway. 

“Nialler! Open the door!”

Niall leans his guitar against the coffee table and makes his way to the door. Louis is alternating between banging with his fist and calling Niall’s name over and over again at the top of his lungs. By the time Niall gets there and unlocks it he finds Louis in the hall, a wide grin on his face. 

“Dude.” Niall crosses his arms and stares at him. Louis beams. He smacks Niall on the cheek and waltzes right past him, dropping down into the exact same spot Niall had been sitting barely five minutes ago. 

“Hello, Niall,” Louis sing songs. He pats the cushion next to him and grins. “Come sit.”

“Uhm. No,” Niall says flatly. He shuts the door behind him and grabs two bottles of water from the mini fridge. He feels like whatever Louis is here for, Niall should most likely be hydrated. Some kind of liquor would probably be better, but Niall hasn’t started drinking yet and it’s apparently too late to start now. 

He leans back against the bureau and crosses one ankle over the other. One of the waters he tosses at Louis who catches it easily, and the other he opens, drinking half of it in one go. 

Louis sips his water, then carefully twists the cap back on. He tilts his head as he watches Niall, his eyes narrowing into a squint. 

“So. How are things?”

Niall takes a deep breath. “Things are good.”

“Hmm. That’s nice.”

“Yep.” Niall nods and Louis nods. They both just stare at each other. Staring and nodding. 

After about thirty seconds Niall can’t take it anymore. If Louis is here to grill him about Harry, Niall isn’t going to make it easy. Louis has to at least _ask_ him something.

“Lou, just spit it out. What did you come here to say.”

“What?” Louis presses a hand to his chest and tries to act surprised. “Are you saying I’m here with an agenda? Niall, I’m shocked.”

Niall rolls his eyes.

“Can’t I just pop in on my mate for no reason--” Louis continues but Niall cuts him off.

“Not really, no.”

“Just to see how he’s doing--”

“We literally spend every second of the day together.”

“Without there being an, an, an _ulterior motive_ to it?”

“I mean, you could, yeah,” Niall says. Louis preens for a second, almost as if he’s won so Niall adds, “I mean, if you were Liam or someone you could do that.”

Niall just barely misses the pillow Louis launches at his head. 

“Fuck off,” Louis says around a laugh. 

Niall does sit down then because this conversation is going to happen whether he wants it to or not. The chances of him getting rid of Louis without talking about his feelings or summat are less than zero. Niall figures he might as well be comfortable when it’s happening. 

“Niall,” Louis says, but this time his voice is low. He’s not teasing anymore, or taking the piss. It’s almost worse this way, Niall reckons. He drops his head back against the sofa cushions and sighs. 

“Yeah, Tommo.”

The thing is, Louis doesn’t even really need to say anything. Niall knows everything he’s going to ask. He’s going to want to know that things are alright, and that Niall’s ok, and if this is something he and Harry both want. He’s not doing it to be nosy or mean, he’s doing it because he’s Louis and it’s his job to take care of them all. That’s what Louis thinks anyway, and after all this time Niall’s not about to let him know that he’s got everything under control and can handle this all by himself. 

Niall doesn’t even know if that’s true, really. Because he thinks things are alright, and he thinks he’s ok and he thinks that this is what he and Harry want. The problem though lately is that he and Harry spend a lot of time together, sure. But when they do, talking isn’t one of their highest priorities. 

No matter, because it’s not on Louis to figure out if things are going to stay good between him and Harry. Niall thinks they both know that.

“I’m good, yeah?” Niall says. He lays his hand flat in between them palm up. He wiggles his fingers until Louis slips his hand into Niall’s. “Stop worrying.”

“Pfft.” Louis squeezes Niall’s fingers. “Not a chance.”

“How about you?” Niall asks softly. Any time he’s asked Louis about Eleanor and how he’s doing since they split Louis waves him off telling him that _he’s good, good, great yeah?_ Everything’s a laugh with Louis all the time, until the times that they’re very much not. Niall wants to make sure he’s not missed the chance to help Louis with something if he could. Niall would do anything for him.

“You’re not the only one who worries, Lou. You’d let me know if you needed anything, wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Louis answers. Niall believes him, which is good. “And you too, yeah? You’ll maybe, I don’t know, _talk_ to Harry at some point?”

It sounds terrible to Niall. Sitting down with Harry. _Talking_. About _feelings_. Niall would rather eat glass.

“Christ, that sounds awful,” Niall says. 

“I know,” Louis says around a sigh. “I know. It’s total bollocks and sounds like the worst thing ever, but you’ve got to, lad. You can’t keep going on with this with him without knowing where each other stands. Take it from me,” he adds with a sad smile. 

Niall knows he’s right. He hates it. He hates every time Louis is right even more than the time before. 

“Ugggggh,” Niall groans and flops around on the sofa. Louis is laughing at him and shoving pillows in his face. Niall thinks that maybe if he stays still long enough one of the pillows will suffocate him and he’ll be dead. Death would be good. Dead people don’t have to talk to their mates about their relationship or whatever this is. 

Louis tosses another pillow at him and Niall closes his eyes and hopes for the best.

*

Niall puts off talking to Harry for three days. 

They’ve been busy with performing, and promo, and packing everything up before the last two shows so it’s not hard. Whenever Harry gives Niall the look he’s taken to giving him, or mentions going to Niall’s room, Niall is able to change the subject or have something else that he “urgently” needs to do. Harry is definitely confused by it. Niall can tell by the way his eyebrows scrunch up every time Niall blows him off. 

But Niall figures this part of the tour is ending, right? Then they all have a few days to get their stuff together, and then they’re off to America. Surely this is a conversation that could be had somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Like another country. 

Sadly, Harry is neither an idiot, nor does he have any idea of the plan Niall has cooked up to keep them from interacting until they’re on the other side of the planet. He goes to Niall’s room on the third morning straight from the gym, early enough that Niall’s not had a chance to escape yet. 

“Hey. Oh. Hazza,” Niall chokes out when he answers the door to find Harry standing there. Harry’s got his hair pulled back in a hot pink headband and his grey t-shirt is soaked with sweat. He’s wearing a terrible pair of bright yellow gym shorts and when Niall tries to block the door, Harry sticks his big foot inside and keeps Niall from closing it right in his face.

“Yeah, _hey, oh, Hazza_.” Harry mimics Niall’s accent and Niall frowns. That’s just rude. 

“Oi, Harry, what the hell--”

“No, you _what the hell_ , all right?” 

And Niall didn’t really expect this. He didn’t expect Harry to be cross. If anything, Niall’s the one who’s got no idea what’s going on between them. Harry should be fine.

“What are you yelling at me for?” Niall asks. 

Harry paces across Niall’s floor, kicking at the random pieces of clothing that are lying about, waiting for Niall to pack them into a bag. Niall’s not exactly sure what reaction he expected if he pulled away from Harry a little bit, but this definitely isn’t it. 

If he’s being honest, he kind of thought Harry would give no reaction at all and he’d just carry on with his life. Dancing around the stage at night and laughing with the lads all day. Everything back to the way it always had been between the two of them. Niall figured he could start to ignore what’s been happening recently and it wouldn’t matter to Harry at all. That things would just be...normal. 

“I don’t know!” Harry almost shouts. “I’m mad!”

He stops when Niall stares at him, mouth open in shock. “Well, I mean. I’m not like, _mad_ mad,” Harry clarifies. “Not really. I just.” He plants his hands on his hips and sighs heavily. “Why are you being weird.”

“I’m being weird?” Niall winces when his voice cracks. He clears his throat. “I’m not being weird, I’m just--” he stops then because he doesn’t really know what to say. _I’m keeping my distance_ sounds awful, because then he has to explain why he’s been thinking about the two of them and what it is that they’re doing. But he can’t really deny that he’s been acting weird either because, well, he has. 

In the end, he decides to just blurt it out. What’s the worst that can happen?

“What the fuck are we doing, Harry?”

Harry blinks at him. He looks around the room, then back at Niall.

“Like right now?” he asks. 

“No, fucking - what the fuck, Harry. No, not right _now_.”

“Oh.” Harry kicks at the floor a bit, sending a random pile of Niall’s socks sailing into the air. “So like--”

“Like with the…” Niall waves his hands around in the air, trying to encapsulate the idea of _hooking up with your best mate over and over again and never talking about it_ without actually saying the words. 

Harry looks confused, so Niall does it again. Harry tilts his head and narrows his eyes, watching Niall intently. Niall huffs. “You know,” he repeats, still flailing his arms around. He must look insane. “With the--” 

“With the fucking,” Harry says flatly. “Like, us. You and me.” He winces a little, and adds, “That sounded bad, sorry.”

“No, no. I mean, yeah it sounded bad, Haz, Jesus Christ. But I mean, that’s what I meant anyway.” Niall goes to the bed and flops face down onto the covers. 

It doesn’t take Harry long to join him, the mattress dipping under his weight. Any other time Niall would bitch because why does Harry think it’s ok to put his gross, sweaty body all over Niall’s sheets, but he’s checking out soon anyway and while this conversation is happening he figures they should just keep going. God knows Niall’s going to try and never bring it up again. 

“Why are you being weird,” Harry asks again. His voice is low. Niall turns his head so he's facing Harry, and something low in his gut twists. 

They’ve laid like this together so many times Niall has lost count. He’s been with Harry like this when they were happy, and sad. They’ve watched each other this way probably thousands of times, but this is the first time Niall’s looked at Harry this way and been unsure of him. Of what Harry’s thinking. Niall always prided himself on being the one who understood Harry, who really got him, and now he’s not sure where Harry’s head is at, or what he thinks, and it makes Niall feel unsteady.

“Why do you think this happened now,” Niall asks softly. Harry’s staring at him; his face is so close. One eyebrow lifts and Niall clarifies, “You and me, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Harry answers simply. “I haven’t really thought about it. It just seemed right when it happened, you know?”

And Niall does. He does know. But the thing is, for him it seemed right when it happened because he’s always felt this way about Harry. He’s always loved Harry just a little bit more than he should. What he still doesn’t know is what Harry feels, or why _he_ decided now was the right time. 

“Was it because of…” Niall trails off. “I don’t know. Just everything now. The way everything is with all of us.” 

He doesn’t say it but he needs to know if this is because everything is so different. They lost Zayn and everything feels different all the time. With the band, and with the tour, and with the four of them. He wonders if Harry feels this way now about Niall because it tricks him into thinking things are ok. That not everything is changing. 

He doesn’t actually ask Harry that though. He thinks part of him might not really want to know. 

“I don’t think so,” Harry answers honestly. “I hadn’t thought about it all that much to be honest because it just... It feels pretty alright, you know?” He shrugs and his lips twitch in a smile. Harry runs one knuckle over Niall’s cheek and Niall can’t keep himself from leaning into it.

“Do you not…” Harry starts. Niall holds his breath because Harry is watching him now, and Niall knows he can’t lie to him. “Do you not want to keep going? Is this not what you want?”

Niall knows that this could be his out. He could decide right now that this is too much, or not what he wants and he could tell Harry they should call it off. Harry would never fault him for that. He’d never hold it against Niall or think poorly of him for it. 

If Niall was really worried about himself, and the fact that this could potentially hurt worse than anything he’s known he could stop it right now. That would be the smart thing. The safe thing. 

But Niall’s never really gotten anywhere in his life by playing it safe. 

“Don’t be a tit,” he says instead. He slots his leg between Harry’s and pulls himself closer. Harry smiles at him easily, and dips his head down. His mouth is hot when he touches it to Niall’s throat. He slides his lips up, over the curve of his jaw, before kissing his mouth softly. 

“Good. ‘M’glad.” Harry’s voice is rough. He kisses Niall again and breathes, “Because I don’t want to stop either.”

Harry slips an arm under Niall’s back and pulls him close. His eyes are the brightest green, and his mouth makes Niall want things he’s got no business wanting. He’s not going to stop, though. Harry’s hands are on him, every touch setting Niall’s skin on fire. 

Niall should be keeping himself in check and keeping a handle on his heart. That would be the smart thing. But this is Harry, and Niall is going to let himself feel every second.

He’ll deal with all the rest of it later. 

*

_US Leg - OTRA Tour_

“All right, folks, we’re here today with the members of One Direction and I’m going to ask the question that’s been on everyone’s mind so Niall this one is for you: what’s been the hardest part of all this for the rest of you, now that Zayn’s gone?”

Niall manages to keep the smile on his face, but just barely. This is the third radio show they’ve done today, the third time one of them has been asked this same question. He can feel Liam shift where he’s sat next to him, and Louis makes the smallest sound in the back of his throat. 

The interviewer (and it’s not his fault Niall figures, he’s most likely just reading off a list of questions the station has given him) stares at Niall expectantly. He’s an older, average looking bloke in a dark green t-shirt and a pair of grey slacks. He’s got an annoying habit of cracking his gum every time he’s waiting for one of them to answer a question, and he does it again now, _crack crack crack_ right in Niall’s face as he stares at him expectantly. 

Niall doesn’t have to answer though, because Harry jumps in and does it for him. 

“I think, Jerry,” Harry says, (and of course Harry remembers the name of every person they speak to every single day. Of course he does), “that my very first answer to this question still stands.” 

Niall feels Harry’s hand slide around the back of his neck and Harry curls his fingers there and squeezes reassuringly. Niall tenses a little, because things between him and Harry have been off since they got to America. If Harry notices he doesn’t let on; just leaves his hand and taps his fingers lightly against Niall’s skin. 

“And what was that?” the bloke asks. ( _Jerry_ , Niall’s brain supplies. _His name is Jerry_.) 

“The paperwork!” Harry answers easily. “The paperwork is always the hardest part!” 

Niall can hear the smile in Harry’s voice. Even after all these years Niall wonders how Harry manages to do this every interview. How he can still answer the same questions, and go through the same things but smile every time. 

Jerry laughs out loud like Harry’s answer is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He throws his head back and slaps his leg. Harry laughs along with him and Niall manages to force a grin as well, but he can tell Liam and Louis are nearing the end of their rope. Liam’s smile is tight, and Louis has completely detached himself from the entire interview and is playing Candy Crush on his phone. 

“All right, Mr. Harry Styles,” Jerry says. He turns to Harry and his smile is big and sly. He looks like he’s made of nothing but teeth. Niall has a sudden urge to punch him. “Since you seem to be the chattiest one today, this next question is for you.”

Harry’s fingers tighten the slightest bit on the back of Niall’s neck. That’s the only indication he gives that he’s uncomfortable, and Niall’s the only one who gets it. Niall knows how Harry feels about being asked certain things, how he’ll give non-answers all day. Harry doesn’t like to be the one being put on the spot, but he’ll take the brunt of it every time they’re all together if it means people will leave the others alone. 

“What have you got, Jerry?” Harry asks. He pulls his hand away from Niall to spread his arms out wide. “I’m an open book.”

The three of them laugh quietly to themselves, because Harry is literally everything but. 

Jerry just grins some more though. He rifles through the papers in front of him, finally finding one that suits him to read from. 

“Let’s talk about girlfriends, then,” Jerry says. Niall feels Louis go still next to him and Liam sucks in a breath. Niall wants to murder this guy. Of all the things in the world he could ask about, this is what he picks. 

“‘M’sorry, Jerry, but I’ve got nothing for you there,” Harry says, trying to make his voice sound as innocent as he can. “I’m single as a pringle as you folks say.”

Jerry slaps the table and laughs again like Harry’s the funniest person he’s ever heard. Beside him Niall hears Louis mutter, “this guy’s got to be fucking kidding me,” and Niall puts his hand on Louis’ knee to keep him in place. He’s afraid if they don’t start trying to hold Louis down, in about five minutes time he’s going to launch himself over the desk and put his hands around Jerry’s throat. 

“And what about you, Niall?” Jerry asks. “Single as well?”

“Yep,” Niall answers. He grits his teeth together before forcing out a tight smile. “Harry and I both. Single pringles, like Harry said.”

Harry laughs and pats Niall on the back. He holds his fist up for Niall to bump his knuckles against, and Niall does, both of them wiggling their fingers when they pull their hands back. Their eyes catch and Niall thinks: _Single. Right. Except that I know what you taste like. I know how your fingers feel when they’re twisted in my hair. I know what your face looks like when you’re about to come_.

Harry looks away though, like he’s started to do lately, so Niall stops thinking about it. 

It’s quiet for a second, and Niall thinks that maybe that was enough for Jerry. He hopes it is. But then Jerry opens his stupid mouth again, and says, “And you, Louis, you were with your girlfriend, Eleanor is it? And--”

“That was a few months ago, mate.” Louis’ voice is sharp. His smile is vicious. He’s got on what Niall secretly calls his ‘polite murder face’ and Niall is genuinely worried about Jerry’s safety if he keeps these questions up. “I think it’s best if we all move on now, yeah?” 

Jerry must sense danger, because he laughs a little quieter and drops his head, shuffling around for another paper. 

Niall can feel Liam exhale, the tension leaving his shoulders. They’ve got the first few weeks of shows under their belt for this leg of the tour, but it’s been a rough start for Liam most of all. Niall’s heard Liam and Louis talking, he knows Liam and Sophia are having problems now too and Niall hates it. 

He hates all the weirdness and all the things changing. Sometimes he wishes it was a year ago; six months ago even. If he knew then what he knows now maybe he could have done something, fixed something so none of this would be happening. Zayn is gone. Louis and Eleanor split. Liam and Sophia are having problems. And Niall and Harry...well. Niall hasn’t got any idea what’s going on with them.

They still text each other and joke around. Harry touches Niall more than most people, but it’s like it was today. A hand on the curve of Niall’s neck, or curled around his hip. He touches the small of Niall’s back when they’re stood together, he rubs Niall’s shoulder when Niall’s tired and yawns. 

That’s it though. Anything else that they had between them they apparently left back in Niall’s hotel room in the UK. For as much as the both of them said they didn’t want anything to change, everything has. Niall hates it, but he doesn’t know what to do really to fix it. 

Like now, for example. Harry touches Niall’s arm to get his attention, but when Niall looks up, Harry looks away again. 

“Jerry’s asking about where we’re most excited to play this summer,” Harry mumbles. He looks back at Niall and glances at where Jerry’s got a paper clutched in his hand and an expectant look on his face. Niall wonders just how much of this interview he’s spaced out on when Harry adds, “Louis said Toronto and Liam said Soldier Field. I’m waiting on your pick to see what my final answer will be.”

Niall blinks. Suddenly he can’t remember a single city they have scheduled. Harry must be able to sense his distress because he smiles at Niall gently. “Maybe Boston, yeah? I know you loved it when we played there before.”

“Boston. Right. I mean, sure. Yes,” Niall chokes out. Jerry beams at their answers, then turns to Liam to ask him something else. Niall closes his eyes. He can’t believe he let himself get so distracted in an interview that he missed an entire question and then couldn’t even come up with an answer when he finally got back on track. 

He can feel Harry move closer to him without even seeing him. The air behind Niall shifts, and then settles, just as Harry tips his head down close to Niall’s ear. “You all right?”

Niall nods. He’s all right. He’s fine. Everything is going to be great, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling like this; missing Harry and whatever it is that they had. It was fun, but apparently it’s done now and Niall is great with that. 

Everything is great.

*

Everything is a mess. 

They’re in Minneapolis and everyone is happy to have a show after a day of travel. Niall remembers this particular stadium; the layout of it and the way the seats arc all the way around them. The interview from the morning feels like it was a hundred years ago. Niall forgets until he’s in the thick of it how some days feel like he’s awake for a thousand hours straight, and other days when they do nothing but sleep and travel seem to pass quicker than a breath. 

Today was a long one though. Waking up, interview after interview after interview. They all split off after that and Niall managed to have a kip in one of the backstage rooms before soundcheck, but now it’s nearly show time and they’re all back together, excitement and nerves and pre-show jitters all over the place. They gravitate toward each other the later it gets, and by the time they’re in a circle Harry sticks his hand out and says, “Let’s do this shit.” 

Louis jumps in immediately. “Can you say it like _Jerry_ did?” 

They all laugh. Jerry had been the topic of conversation for the bulk of the afternoon, so when Harry says, “Let’s do this shit,” with an exaggerated American accent, his eyes squinted closed and a big, dumb grin on his face, they all crack up and put their together hands in a pile. 

Things go downhill from there. 

Niall’s got his guitar, and they all head out as amped as they are for any show. The crowd is crazy for them - Niall can never get over just how loud it is in some of the stadiums they play - and he sings and dances and does everything he’s used to doing at every show. 

He dances with Liam and sings with Louis. He and Dan play riffs together and he stands on the edge of Josh’s platform halfway through the show, laughing as Josh goes crazy on the drums. For the first time in forever though, it’s Harry that’s bothering Niall. 

Harry’s being weird with him - and not the good weird like when he chews on the strings of Niall’s hoodie for no reason. This is a bad kind of weird. A kind of weird where it almost seems like Harry’s avoiding being around him. He’s out there doing his thing with the others, jumping around and flailing his hair. He does a little choreographed dance with Liam, and jokes around with the audience and tosses a teddy bear someone throws on stage at Louis’ head. 

But he’s not come near Niall pretty much all night. He’s stayed on his side of the stage and Niall is on the other and it’s like there’s an invisible barrier or something keeping them apart. 

Niall hates it.

Even when Louis gets on the mic, calling them all to stand together center stage Harry plants himself at the very end. Every other show he’s made sure he’s near Niall - every single one - and the fact that he’s doing this now, that he’s putting obvious space between the two of them, gets right under Niall’s skin.

They’re between songs after that, and Harry wanders offstage to the other side again. Niall watches him go. Liam’s looking between the both of them, and when he catches Niall’s eye Niall shrugs and looks away. 

*

He gets Harry’s room number from Cal. The fact that he doesn’t have it, that Harry doesn’t even think lately to text Niall when they get someplace letting him know what room he’s in pisses Niall off. Even before...any of this, any of the hooking up or whatever it is they were doing, him and Harry were himandHarry. They were mates - the _best_ mates - and if Harry is going to let any of this ruin that part of them too, Niall is going to do a murder.

He bangs his fist on the door and hollers. “Open the door, Hazza!”

Harry doesn’t answer right away, and that just makes Niall angrier. The interview today was shit. The show was shit. _Harry_ lately is shit.

“I said open the door, you absolute twat,” Niall yells as he keeps banging. “Harry, I know you’re in there, so just--”

“Niall! What the hell!” The door flings inward and Harry is stood there, entirely naked except for the towel he’s holding around his waist. His hair is soaked and hanging low down his back. 

Niall drops his hand and looks away because, well, this is awkward. 

“Oh, uhm. Hey.” He looks up to find Harry leaning in the doorway and glaring at him. “You were showering?”

“Wow. You’re so smart,” Harry drawls. “Imagine if you actually went to uni. You’d be a full on genius by now.”

“Oh, piss off,” Niall mutters, and pushes past him into Harry’s room. 

Harry’s room looks like it does in every city; there are a bunch of Harry’s tops lying neatly over the high backed desk chair. He’s got his suitcase open with things tossed around inside, but there’s nothing else out, really. A fat, cinnamon candle is burning from the top of the bureau. The room looks neat and barely lived in. Harry always manages to keep his stuff together, to keep his room in decent shape because he knows they’re not staying there long and it’s easier to pack up and move on from. 

Niall said once to Bressie that it's like Harry’s room is how he lives his life. He’s got some things out, but most of it he keeps tucked away. He’s ready to move on from anything at a moment's notice. It makes sense, and it’s smart - Niall would never think otherwise - but it’s also a bit sad. 

Niall hates to think that he’s one of those things. That he’s like the stuff from Harry’s suitcase that he shuffles around a lot but never actually takes out to stay. That he and Harry were together a bit, but now he’s just something Harry has moved on from. That he was never going to be permanent.

He waits until he hears the door close behind him, before turning around to face Harry. 

“Why don’t you text me your room number anymore?”

Harry is looking down at his feet, but when Niall asks him that he looks up and bites his lip almost guiltily. “What?”

“Your room number,” Niall repeats. “Why don’t I have it.”

Harry looks at Niall, then back at the door, then back to Niall. His lips quirk in a sad smile. “Well I mean, I think you kind of do.”

“No, that’s not--” Niall scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “That’s not what I mean, I meant--”

“I know what you meant, Niall,” Harry says softly. He walks over and sits on the edge of his bed and looks up at him with big, green eyes. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to. Niall goes and sits next to him, and when Harry flips his hand over Niall covers it with his own. 

Niall has been annoyed all day. The interview and dealing with Harry and the show. All of it has been building for weeks, actually, but sitting here now, next to Harry, it’s like all of his anger fizzles out. 

“I don’t know what you want,” Harry finally says. He looks at Niall and then away. Harry’s hair is still wet. It’s sticking his neck and dripping down his back. Niall wants to touch him so badly he has to curl the fingers of his other hand to keep from reaching out. “I don’t know how to do this. I didn’t want to be...too much, I guess, so I figured I’d just leave it up to you and see what happened.”

Harry picks at the strings of his towel. “You didn’t do anything though, or say anything, so I figured…” he trails off but Niall can finish the rest of it in his head. 

They’ve each been waiting for the other one to say something or do something so they would know where they stood. But when neither of them said anything, they both assumed the worst. 

The whole thing is so ridiculous Niall could choke someone.

Because this isn’t what Niall wanted. Not ever. Not when they started this, and not when he asked Harry weeks ago what was going on between them. He’s never wanted Harry to feel like he’s too much, or to wonder about Niall. He’s never wanted Harry to feel like that this is all on him, or that Niall doesn’t want this just as badly. 

Because Niall does want this. All of it. Every single second. 

“I want you to text me your room number,” Niall says. He’s talking at his lap, not looking at Harry yet but Harry’s fingers tighten around his anyway. “I want to know where you are. I want us to be normal on stage again, and I want you to come to my room after a show and I want--” He takes a deep breath and looks up. Harry’s watching him carefully, and Niall loves him. He loves him so much he can barely breathe.

“I want to be with you,” he says simply. “‘M’sorry if it seemed like I didn’t.”

Harry breathes out slowly. He rubs his face against Niall’s shoulder, before bumping his head against Niall’s chin.

“Sorry that I stopped texting you. I was being a twat.”

“Well yeah, you definitely were,” Niall says flatly. Harry gasps and shoves him and Niall nearly falls off the bed. He rights himself in time to shove Harry back, and Harry is so uncoordinated he flails backward, nearly falling off the edge. He’s laughing though, and Niall finally feels like things are back to normal, like he’s got _his_ Harry back. 

“You can tell me you want to be with me now too, you know,” Niall teases. “I mean, now would be a good time for you to say that.” 

Harry taps his chin and _hmm_ s quietly. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ll think about it, but--”

“Oi, think about this, you fucker,” Niall says around a laugh, digging his fingers into Harry’s sides where he knows he’s the most ticklish. 

Harry shrieks with laughter, and Niall laughs with him. His heart feels so light, like his entire chest is filled with bubbles. He’s happy, finally. He feels like for the first time in forever he’s got everything he wants. 

They keep laughing as Harry shoves back onto the covers, trying to make his way up the bed more. His towel catches on the duvet as he squirms. Harry goes to grab it back, but Niall stops him, covering Harry’s hand and holding it against the covers. 

Just like that, everything changes. The laughter dies in Niall’s throat, and the air feels heavy around them. Harry blinks up at him. He tries to lift his hand where Niall’s holding it, but Niall just presses down harder, keeping him in place. 

Harry keens low in his throat. “Niall--”

“Don’t,” Niall says firmly. 

Harry sucks in a breath and his eyes go dark. It’s not the first time Niall’s seen him like this, but it’s been weeks since Harry’s been laid out in front of him like a gift. The lights in the room are dim, the candle is still flickering from the bureau. Every nerve in Niall’s body is aching to touch. 

“All right?”Niall asks quietly. 

Harry’s skin flushes the softest pink. He slides his other hand up Niall’s arm and yanks him down so Niall’s on top of him, slotting their mouths together and kissing him hotly. Harry moans into Niall’s mouth. Niall kisses him back, touches Harry’s cheek and the wet strands of his hair. Harry’s skin is smooth, still damp from his shower, and he’s restless under Niall, shifting against him, needy and desperate. 

“Yeah,” Harry gasps and bites Niall’s bottom lip. Niall lets go of Harry’s wrist and his hands shake when he pulls Niall down harder. Harry hooks one leg around Niall’s thigh and Niall wants every stitch of his clothing off. He yanks at his shirt and shoves down his jeans. Harry helps him pull the t-shirt up and over his head, digging his fingers into Niall’s sides to keep him close. 

“I want you,” Harry bites out. Niall runs the tips of his fingers over Harry’s knee, up the inside of his thigh. Harry shakes under him, his eyes wide and glassy. “Please, touch me, I just- I need--”

Niall quiets him with a kiss, swallowing every shuddered breath Harry exhales into his mouth. He touches Harry slowly, pulling back to watch him. How he moans, how he looks with his head tossed back, Niall’s name the only word in his mouth. 

He can’t stop thinking of all the things he wants to do to him. He wants to kiss every spot of Harry’s skin. The side of his neck and the soft spot behind his knee. He wants to leave bite marks on Harry’s belly, slick his fingers up and touch Harry everywhere. He wants to have Harry’s dick in his mouth, wants to bury himself deep inside him, scratching down Harry’s back, leaving marks Harry will feel for days. 

He wants Harry to want him - to keep wanting him the way Niall wants Harry. He wants Harry to want him for weeks, months. For as long as this keeps going on. 

Harry presses his fingers into Niall’s shoulders and Niall crawls over him, their dicks sliding next to each other. Harry curls up off the bed, choking out something close to a sob. He hooks his arm around Niall’s neck and drags him close. His mouth is wet and hot. He tries to kiss Niall and misses, his lips hitting the edge of his jaw and chin.

“I’ve got you,” Niall whispers. He takes Harry’s hand and twists their fingers together. Harry’s eyes are wild. “Come on, Hazza.” Niall moves both their hands down and squeezes, their palms damp with sweat. Niall’s as hard as Harry is, the feeling of having Harry under him again enough to set Niall off from the start. 

He can tell when Harry’s about to come, because he squeezes his eyes closed tight, his hips moving against Niall’s in jerky motions. Niall’s close too, but he wants to see Harry when he comes. It’s been too long and Niall’s missed him too much. 

“Harry,” Niall pants. “Harry, look at me.”

Harry looks up just as Niall tightens his fist one last time, his body shivering under Niall’s. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is open, and when he comes he squeezes his eyes shut so tight Niall can see tears leaking out the corners. 

it’s too much for Niall. he never thought he could have so much, that he could be so close to having everything he’s wanted. He’s been Harry’s friend for years, has loved him just as long, and when Harry kisses him gently, his lips skimming the corner of his mouth and jaw, Niall comes too. 

They’re quiet for a minute, just the sound of the candle wick popping and their breathing going back to normal. Niall grabs for Harry’s towel and cleans them both off before tossing it to the floor. 

“So, travel day tomorrow, yeah?” Niall touches the tips of his fingers to Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s hair has started to dry, the curls knotted and wild across the pillows. Harry smiles up at him, and Niall’s heart thumps crazily in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, beaming brightly. “Hey, do you maybe want to fuck on the bus?”

And Jesus, Niall loves him. 

“Yeah, Harry,” he says, barely able to form words over the way he’s laughing. “Sure we can fuck on the bus.”

Harry pulls him down into a kiss, and cheers. 

*

They don’t actually fuck on the bus, which is kind of sad when Niall thinks about it. They do huddle together in Harry’s bunk and talk about the tour and their friends and families back home. If you were to ask Niall which of the boys he knows best in the band he would always say Harry, but even with all the knowledge he has he feels like he still manages to learn something new every time they talk. 

They’ve got a ton more shows coming up, and Niall can’t wait. He loves being in America, playing in stadiums in the open air under the dark sky with nothing but the stadium lights and the stars around them. Harry loves it too, and they talk for hours about all the places they’re going, everywhere they’ve gone, the places they still want to go. 

In Pittsburgh they’re backstage before the show and the energy is electric. It’s hot out, the air around them thick and muggy. Harry puts his hand out and says, “Let’s do this shit.” Niall pretends to gasp dramatically and tells him to say it like someone who’s sweating to death. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up tight into slits, but he does it and dumps a bottle of water over his head as he shouts, “Let’s do this shit!” again. 

He’s soaked then, and they’ve not even gotten on stage yet. They all laugh because Harry is ridiculous really, but when Liam and Louis wander off Niall pulls him by the belt loops away from everyone else. He gets Harry to a dark corner and kisses him before they have to go on. Niall’s fingers twist in Harry’s wet shirt, his skin warm and damp, and they kiss and kiss, their laughter dying out the longer they stand there. 

When they get to New Jersey, they realize the air conditioning in the hotel is on the fritz. Harry’s room is so much hotter than Niall’s so he brings his stuff over and moves himself in for as long as they’re going to be staying there. 

Niall doesn’t mind. He’d keep Harry with him all the time if he could. The room never actually gets cool and Niall feels like they’re both always covered in a sheen of sweat. Harry takes about a hundred showers, and Niall takes advantage of every single one, waiting outside the bathroom door until Harry emerges and then shoving him against the wall, or the bed, or the side of the bureau so Niall can sink to his knees and suck Harry off. 

Next is Baltimore, then Toronto, then Chicago. The weather gets hotter as summer drags on. The shows get more and more frantic the longer they’re on the road. Every city they go to they’ve been before, but everything is different now. This time Niall will remember them for all the regular reasons, sure. He’ll remember them as being places he adores, and playing shows that he loves, with his lads and his band and his best mates. 

But now Niall has other things to remember too.

Things like Milwaukee is where Harry pulls him over and kisses him, right in the open where everyone backstage can see. Niall can hear a few whistles and catcalls, but the more people react, the deeper Harry kisses him. Niall raises his arm and lifts his middle finger and he can hear Josh laugh, and Liam murmur something quietly to someone else nearby. When Harry pulls back his eyes are sparkling, the tops of his cheeks a warm pink. 

“That was alright, yeah?” he asks quietly. 

Niall doesn’t know how to tell him just how all right it was. How Harry can do that again and again, whenever he wants and Niall will never ever tell him no. 

He kisses him back instead, and hopes Harry can tell exactly what he means. 

Cleveland is where they have an extra day off and they spend it in bed, ordering room service all day and drinking all the tiny bottles of wine and soda and liquor from the mini bar. They leave their mobiles on the other side of the room, ringers off, and touch every inch of each other's skin with shaky hands. 

Niall works Harry open slowly that night, Harry’s head tipped back and mouth caught open on a gasp as Niall pushes inside. Niall thinks that he could feel this way every day, for the rest of his life and never tire of it. 

Detroit is where Harry holds Niall’s hand all night long when they watch Avengers with some of the lads after a show. They joke around and hang out with their friends, eating popcorn and chips and laughing at how seriously Liam and Louis are about anything Marvel related. 

After the movie Niall hides in the loo to call Bressie and confess to him in a whisper what’s happening with him and Harry. He tells Bressie how happy he is, and how he never thought in a million years that this could really happen. When he finishes the call, he finds Harry waiting for him just outside the door, his eyes crinkled in a smile. 

Harry must have heard him talking, because that night he curls around Niall tighter than ever, kissing him slowly until they both fall asleep. 

Philadelphia is where Harry whispers that he loves him. They’re in bed in the middle of the night, Niall’s back pressed to Harry’s chest. Niall had been sleeping, but he woke up when he felt Harry's lips press against his hair. He tries to keep still after Harry’s said it, but Harry doesn’t buy it and he pokes Niall until he twists his head to look at him. 

Harry's face is pink and he looks away, almost like he’s embarrassed about what he said. 

“Hey,” Niall says softly. He scoots up to kiss Harry on the mouth. He can barely see Harry’s expression in the dark, but when Niall whispers, “Me too, Hazza. You know I love you too,” Harry leans down and kisses him and kisses him, until the sun starts to peek through the blinds. 

These are the things Niall is going to remember from this tour. All of these firsts. Because while there have been so many things ending this year, it’s the things that are just beginning that he wants to keep close. 

*  
When they get to Buffalo, Liam calls a band meeting. 

Niall knows it’s not good. He’s spoken to Liam and knows his head has been in a different place than the rest of them recently. Liam misses his family, and the UK, and he and Sophia are having major issues - issues akin to the ones Louis and Eleanor had right when they were about to split up. 

Niall and Harry are lying on top of the covers on Niall’s bed when they both get the text. They flick open their mobiles at the same time, and Niall groans softly just as Harry breathes out a heavy sigh. 

“What do you think this is about?” Harry asks. 

Niall shrugs, but he’s got an idea. He doesn’t want to think it, doesn’t want to say it out loud, but when he looks over at Harry he’s got nearly the same look in his eyes. 

Everything this tour has been so big, so much, that Niall’s been having a hard time imagining what could come next. He doesn’t feel like they’re done - he knows he’s got so much more he wants to do and he knows the others are the same - but Niall knows there’s got to come a point where they peak. There’s definitely a cap to all of this, and Niall’s been feeling every time they go out on stage and have a show, that this could be it. This could be the last one, and maybe they’re all going to have to start to accept that. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at Harry until he looks away from Niall almost guiltily, and Niall grabs his hand. 

“Hey. Hazza.” Niall waits until Harry looks back at him and squeezes. “No matter what, this is on all of us, yeah? It’s a band meeting. A vote.”

Harry breathes out. “I know, It’s just…” he trails off and bites his lip. When he looks up at Niall his eyes are already damp. 

“I’ve been writing songs,” Harry whispers, so quietly it feels like a secret. “But they’re not songs for like, the band, they’re just songs…”

“Songs for you,” Niall finishes for him. 

Harry sucks in a breath and his chest rattles.

“Yeah. Songs for me.”

“I know, Hazza,” Niall tells him, after a beat of silence. “I have been too.”

He tells Harry because doesn’t want Harry to feel bad or guilty, but also because it’s almost thrilling, in a way, to be able to say it out loud. Niall didn’t know what to do at first when he realized he had a book full of songs he’d written that were meant for one voice, not four. He couldn’t even think about it too hard at first. Being able to finally talk about it out loud sets something loose in his chest. 

“Yeah?” Harry says hopefully. He takes Niall’s hand and curls their fingers together tight. He laughs then, a small, sad sound. “God, they’re going to hate us.”

“Nah.” Niall reaches over and pulls Harry close, pressing a messy kiss to the top of his head. “I mean, let’s hope not,” he says, and laughs. 

*

No one hates anyone, not that Niall really thought they would. 

Louis is the hardest to convince, and Harry is the first to cry, but neither of those things are surprising to any of them so they muddle through. It takes a long time, and a lot of talking and tears, but when the decision is reached, it’s a four vote unanimous tie. Niall feels like something heavy has lifted off his shoulders. 

He’s going to miss this - so fucking much - but it’s time. 

After Buffalo they have a travel day to Canada. Niall and Harry spend it together, each with a guitar and their own books filled with chords and verses and things they’ve been working on. They play things for each other; snippets of songs and different bridges they’ve written. Niall plays a few things that Harry starts humming along to instantly, and he feels good about what he’s done. The things he’s written and the ones he’s still writing. 

Harry plays for Niall and he’s brilliant. Niall has always known that, but the things he’s writing, and the things he’s going to do are going to be so incredible. Niall has loved the band, and loved them all as a unit, but the four of them out there, doing all their own things is going to be something else. They’ll always have this, and they’ll always have each other. Now, they’re just going to be able to have something more as well. 

Niall can’t wait. 

*

The last few shows of the US leg are fueled with something Niall’s never felt before. Every show is special, every show is electric, but these last couple have an air of finality to them Niall’s not ever experienced. 

They still have a bunch of shows in the UK, so it’s not over yet, not really. But this is the end of them in America. It’s the end of them here as One Direction for who knows how long, and Niall thinks they all stand on stage a little longer, hold each other’s hands a bit tighter because of it. 

They make it to the final show in Boston on a warm Saturday night. The mood backstage is frantic; the last show of a tour leg usually is. Harry’s been in Niall’s room all day, holding Niall’s hand in his and talking to him about anything and everything. So much has changed this year, and there’s even more to come, but if Niall comes out of it with this, with Harry, then he thinks he’ll be alright. 

They come together, the four of them backstage like they’ve always done. Niall’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Harry is smiling and laughing. Liam’s grinning so brightly his eyes are nearly squinted shut, and even Louis is having fun, flitting around and joking with everyone he comes across. 

“Oi, oi!” Niall cups his hands around his mouth and calls out. 

“Come on, Hazza!” Louis yells. Harry gets close enough to Niall that their shoulders press together. Niall reaches down and tangles the fingers of one hand with Harry’s and grins. 

“Boston, yeah?” Harry says around a smile. “You all ready? It’s the last show for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, pretending to be stern. “We’re ready, Harold. So you better make it a good one.”

“Hey!” Harry pouts but Niall just pulls him in and kisses the corner of his mouth. Louis pretends to choke himself and gag and Liam scolds him for it. 

Niall loves them all. He loves them so much he could burst. 

“Come on, Hazza,” Niall says gently. He makes sure to catch Harry’s eye and smiles. “You ready to lead us in?”

“Yeah, ‘m’ready,” Harry says. He’s biting his lip though, and Niall squeezes his hand reassuringly to make sure he’s all right. “But I think… I think tonight we should do it together. Like all of us. Not just me.” He looks from Niall, to Louis, to Liam and back. “Is that all right with the rest of you?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Liam’s voice is thick. “I think that’s fine.”

“I’m good with it,” Niall adds. 

Louis rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling brightly as he sticks his hand out and waits for the rest of them to pile their hands on top. 

“Oh, please. Nice excuse,” Louis teases. “Five years you’ve been pissing yourself because you don’t like saying the word _shit_ before every show.” 

Harry laughs so quickly he has to yank his hand back to cover his mouth to muffle it. 

“Hey!” he yells, and they all laugh. 

“All right, lads. All right.” Louis' voice is almost soft. He waits for them to stop laughing, and Niall looks at them all, saving Harry for last. Harry looks back at him, and smiles, and Niall holds his hand even tighter. 

Five years they’ve been doing this. Five years and it could all be over tomorrow. But Niall’s got Harry, and he’s got Liam and Louis, and he’s got his friends and his memories. 

It will always be enough. 

“On three then, yeah?” Harry asks, and they all nod, and put their hands together in a pile. 

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Twitter! https://twitter.com/tress30


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